Fire and Powder
by Samantha Willard
Summary: At Bellatrix's orders, Draco kills Hermione. Only she doesn't die—not completely. She's a ghost, doomed to haunt Draco for all of eternity. Has Draco really succumbed to the dark side, or can Hermione draw him into the light? (Dramione) (Begins during DH)
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Fire and Powder

**Chapter:** 1

**Summary:** At Bellatrix's orders, Draco kills Hermione. Only she doesn't die—not completely. She's a ghost, doomed to haunt Draco for all of eternity. Has Draco really succumbed to the dark side, or can Hermione draw him into the light?

**Pairings: **Draco/Hermione

**Warnings: **Rated R for later chapters - mature scenes (nothing ridiculously explicit), language, and mild violence.

**Necessary disclaimer:** I am not JK Rowling. I don't own Harry Potter nor am I in any way legally affiliated with the series. I just like to play with the characters sometimes, especially Draco. Please don't sue me.

**Note:** This story takes place during Deathly Hallows and diverges from the plot after the trio is captured at Malfoy Manor. I will update on a weekly basis, hoping my college schedule remains steady. _**I AM IN DESPARATE NEED OF A BETA, PLEASE MESSAGE ME/EMAIL ME/WHATEVER IF YOU ARE CAPABLE AND WILLING, I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER!** _

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><p><em>"The hour of departure has arrived,<br>a__nd we go our separate ways,  
><em>_I to die, and you to live.  
>Which of these two is better only God knows." <em>  
><em>― Socrates<em>

Hermione writhed on the floor as the next wave of _crucio_ forced her body to ignite into another inferno. Blood trickled from the puncture marks on her lip where her teeth dug into the skin, searching for relief that would never come. She couldn't think of anything but the pain. Pain scalding and searing through her entire being, her soul being crushed and cracked until she feared there would be nothing left.

She was afraid. Afraid for her life. Afraid for Harry and Ron downstairs. Afraid that she was going to die right here on the floor of Malfoy Manor.

As abruptly as the pain began, it stopped.

Hermione gasped in a lung full of air, her muscles still shaking from the pain. She once again became aware of the pain from the _mudblood_ gash on her arm, the blood warm and sticky compared to the icy tile.

Her vision began to clear, eternal blackness fading to the red-tinted hall of Malfoy Manor. She could manage to focus on nothing else but the chandelier directly above her. There were voices, she knew there were, but they were muffled by the ringing in her ears. The _click, click_, of footsteps broke through the mist of residual pain. Suddenly, blazing black eyes were glaring down at her.

"This isn't the time for Gryffindor bravery, silly mudblood," Bellatrix said, her black curls dancing like flames around her face. "Come, Draco, end her."

Hermione jerked at her words, adrenaline taking over the last of the pain. She lurked away with all her might, if she could just reach her wand_―_"Crucio!"

The scalding returned tenfold, and Hermione collapsed into a trembling heap once more.

_End her. _An end to this pain sounded like the most beautiful luxury. She couldn't take any more of this, she just couldn't. This was worse than death. If this was living, this was hell.

"Quit playing, Bellatrix," a mans voice said from the opposite side of the hall. Lucius. The pain halted yet again, heavenly relief causing Hermione to cry out.

Another face appeared over her, grey eyes meeting hers. She had to focus all her remaining energy on connecting the eyes to the blonde hair to recognize the face as Draco's.

"Get on with it, boy," Bellatrix prompted, shoving Draco closer to Hermione.

A look of determination took over her enemies pale features, a mask shutting itself over his eyes. His wand stuck out from his body like an extra limb, pointing between Hermione tearful eyes. Ice sharper than any spell shot through her veins. She didn't want to die. Not like this. She pleaded to the Slytherin with her eyes. They'd never gotten along, but surely he wouldn't do this. He wouldn't. He wouldn't kill Dumbledore, he wouldn't kill her. Surely. He wouldn't do this.

Draco's wand trembled as he took in the tears brimming in Hermione's eyes. She was a filthy mudblood, a worthless creature_―_this should be easy! He was doing the wizarding world a favor, really. Yet, as he looked into her fear stricken face, his determination faltered. But he wouldn't fail again.

"Now, son! The Dark Lord will be here soon," Lucius's voice reminded from the background.

Hermione watched the emotions play out on Draco's face, and saw the mask lock back into place with Lucius's words. She braced herself against the marble floor as she saw the flash of green escape from the end of Draco's wand.

The world around her went abruptly black, the last thing she remembered was a resolute "Avada kedevera!"

Every time Draco closed his eyes to go to sleep, brown eyes stared back at him, brimming with tears. Accusing. Terrified. Dead.

He had done it, finally. He had become a killer. A murderer. A Death Eater. His fingers rubbed absently against the mark on his forearm, a slight stinging sensation accompanying the touch. He was being ridiculous and he knew it. Father had been pleased with him. The Dark Lord had been pleased with him. He had done what was ordered of him, and for once hadn't been a coward. Harry Potter and his friends had been taken care of once and for all. His side would win at last! The Light would be dimmed once again.

He should have been ecstatic. This was what his side had been fighting years for. Finally, that arrogant Potter brat is where he should be—imprisoned by the Dark Lord, set to be executed the very next morning and the redheaded Weasley blood traitor facing the same fate. His two sworn enemies finally to be exterminated once and for all. He'd even finally made up for his transgression against the Dark Lord at the end of his sixth year in which he'd failed to personally kill Dumbledore despite the Dark Lords orders. He'd killed the Mudblood, he'd watched the light all but evaporate from her eyes as the tears finally fell, the clear liquid mixing with the blood on the side of her temple.

He should have been ecstatic, but instead he was wide awake.

A giant weight was gripping his heart, something not quite akin to guilt—guilt over a filthy Mudblood know it all! That would be the day! But alas, the feeling did not dissipate. There was something present indeed, but perhaps it would be different tomorrow. He was probably just tired.

Hermione existed in a state of blackness.

There was nothing. No fear. No relief. Just nothingness.

She continued in this state of emptiness until suddenly there was something. A tug, a gentle pull toward something she couldn't comprehend just yet. She allowed herself to be led, as though tied to a rope being drawn towards a wayward ship that was constantly out of reach. Closer, and closer she navigated, and the tug grew stronger and stronger, propelling her onwards into the blackness.

Draco woke up to the sounds of screaming. His first thought was surprise at having slept at all. He had no recollection of having nodded off, his head heavy against the pillow until well into the morning hours. A strange dream was pulling at his memory, but all he could remember was the sensation of being attatched to something else, the rest was nothing more than a dark mist. He pressed his hands to his face, wiping the sleep from his features. Now was not the time for silly dreams.

The screaming grew louder and he recognized the voice of his aunt Bellatrix.

"How is that possible? These wards are impenetrable!" her strained voice rang out. The paintings above Draco's bed shook with the fury of her words.

"When the Dark Lord finds out—" his father's voice broke off, unable to finish his own sentence. When the Dark Lord finds out what, exactly? Draco moved off his bed, quickly changing into something presentable, before quietly exiting his room and peering over the marble banister to investigate the scene in the foyer.

Bellatrix was fuming, magical energy cracking around her. His father paced nearby—not a good sign—while his mother stood in the corner, a pensive look marring her stern features.

"He will kill us all," his father announced suddenly.

The pieces snapped into the place. Draco understood that Harry Potter and his redheaded sidekick had escaped—somehow—yet again. Despite the numerous wards and locks, The Boy Who Lived had beaten the odds and saved himself once again. Father was right, they were doomed.

"He will kill _you_!" Bellatrix shouted, her eyes blazing. "_You_ were the one who failed to place strong enough wards! How could you do this to our Lord, Lucius?!"

Draco's fathers face took on an offended expression, one which Draco noticed was masking a far more serious fear. "How dare you insinuate that I would ever work against our Lord, my dear sister, do not offend me! You know as well as I that the strongest of protection wards kept our prisoners from escaping, it seems Potter had more tricks up his sleeve then we anticipated, but it is only a minor setback, for we will capture him again surely!"

Draco could sense the tremor in his father's voice though it was slight. He couldn't save this situation, and he knew it. He could only buy us time. Draco has known for a while now that his fathers dedication was waning. He never doubted the Dark Lords ideals, that was for certain, but he was starting to recognize that perhaps the Dark Lords methods were not the sanest. The Dark Lord was merciless towards his enemies and more importantly towards his supporters. Lucius's dedication would never be enough for him, nothing would ever be enough for him, Draco realized.

Draco's eyes met his fathers across the foyer, and Lucius gave him a small nod behind Bellatrix's back. Draco turned abruptly and reentered his bedroom, looking around at the space he had called his home since he could remember. This manor had been in his family for hundreds of years, their family being traced back through generations of pureblood wizards. And now they needed to leave the only place he had called home—unless he counted Hogwarts, which after his sixth year, he doubted he ever could call the castle his home again. Using a quick summoning spell, Draco had accumulated the majority of his important belongings into a trunk which he promptly shrunk for easy storage.

There was a quick knock at the door and his mother entered. The look on her face told him everything he needed to know. He wasn't mistaken, they were certainly leaving.

"Are you ready?" Narcissa asked her son. Draco could see the fear in her eyes, though her face betrayed nothing.

"Yes, mother," Draco responded, asking nothing more.

"Your father is meeting us at the apparition point," she turned and Draco lingered in the doorway behind her. "Hurry, we haven't much time."

With one last glance at his childhood home, Draco followed her the back way out of Malfoy Manor.

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><p><strong>End Note: <strong>Well there's the first chapter. This is my first Harry Potter fanfiction. I've written for other genres (though not on this account, my old stuff is embarrassing and I'd prefer to keep it private) but I'm really excited for this piece. Please review, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. _**BETA NEEDED, PLEASE CONTACT ME IF YOU'RE**_** INTERESTED.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Fire and Powder

**Chapter:** 2

**Necessary disclaimer:** I am not JK Rowling. I don't own Harry Potter nor am I in any way legally affiliated with the series. I just like to play with the characters sometimes, especially Draco. Please don't sue me.

**Note:** HURRAY, this is a super quick update. A big thank you to all of you who reviewed and followed/favorite. I've also posted this story on Archive of Our Own, so feel free to search for it there if you prefer. _**I AM IN DESPARATE NEED OF A BETA, PLEASE MESSAGE ME/EMAIL ME/WHATEVER IF YOU ARE CAPABLE AND WILLING, I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER!** _

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><p><em>"The loneliest moment in someone's life is when they're watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly." <em>  
><em>- F. Scott Fitzgerald (The Great Gatsby)<em>

Draco was surprised. He didn't expect his father to apparate them one of their many vacation homes. This particular one was located in the Swiss alps. He had been particularly fond of this wintery location on their numerous skiing trips before the Dark Lords return to power.

"Is this safe?" his mother asked, her pale eyes deliberating.

Lucius nodded curtly, offering no further explanation, and headed towards the snowy cottage. Draco and his mother followed closely behind him, eyes darting around them as though afraid someone was lurking in the shadows.

The house was almost as cold as the air outside, and Lucius quickly ignited the fireplace in the small living room. The cottage smelt stale and unused, and looked as though it hadn't been touched in years, which, of course, it hadn't. Draco idly wondered where the house elves were, before it occurred to him that of course they couldn't be brought along.

This was one of the more modest homes in the Malfoy family, saved exclusively for skiing excursions. The furnishings were lavish and expensive, of course, but the house itself was not very impressive in size. Draco had always preferred it though, feeling it held a warmth that the larger manors lacked. He wandered the few rooms, finding his old bedroom. There was a full bed with a plush emerald comforter and a dark wooden headboard engraved with the Malfoy family crest. A small scattering of Quidditch posters littered the walls, the hovering figures waving at him like long lost friends. There was a single window in center of the far wall, the glass icy against his hand. He breathed against it, and rubbed with his hand to see the view he had adored so much as a child. There, at last, loomed the alps, menacing and glorious in the distance, covered in snow and skiers. His younger self would have been practically jumping up and down with anticipation—that is, if Malfoy's partook in such frivolous, childish behavior—and begging Father to let him go on one of the larger slopes. But those days were in the past.

"Draco?" his mother prompted from the open door. Draco turned abruptly away from the view as his mother continued, "Your father wishes to speak with you."

Draco nodded, and moved past her into the hallway and towards the living area once again. The room was warmer now, and he settled into the large couch in front of the fireplace, relishing how the flames eased the chill in his hands.

Lucius was sitting in the large armchair next to the couch, looking pensively into a glass filled with a dark liquid. Draco longed to ask him what was happening, what they were going to do, but he knew better. He would let his father do the talking.

"Do you understand what is happening?" Lucius asked after a moment.

"I believe so," Draco replied, hoping, despite his answer, that his father would elaborate further.

"Hm, well, so you understand the extremely precarious situation we have found ourselves in?"

Draco looked down at his forearm, able to tell exactly where the Dark Mark was even though it was below layers of clothing. "We can't out run him."

"Indeed, son, we cannot," Lucius responded, in a grave voice. "We can leave the country, leave the continent even, but we cannot escape the Mark."

The resignation in his voice wrenched at Draco's heart. Surely they weren't just giving up? "So we're doomed? That's it then?"

Lucius looked at his son with sad eyes and didn't respond, he just took another sip of the dark liquid.

Draco let out a heavy sigh, wishing that he was brave enough to ask his father for a glass of whatever liquor he was currently drowning his sorrows with. "What do we do now?"

Lucius swallowed the last of the alcohol. "We wait."

Draco watched out his window as families in the distance laughed and enjoyed the winter evening. They were heading back to their separate lodges, oblivious of the war around them. Draco never understood why his father, who passionately detested Muggles, had kept this property even though it was so close in relation to Muggle lodges. When he was little he used to watch the Muggle children building snowmen and playing and he would feel pity. _They would never know magic,_ he had thought.

He was never allowed to play with them, not that he would have wanted to associate with such filth anyway, but it was often lonely. His father was always sure to invite another pureblood family with them on their vacations in order to allow him to associate with other well-bred children. It was purely politics, though, and Draco wouldn't have minded more company than the stiff children of his fathers allies.

Now, he was alone, save his mother and father. It was only a matter of time until the Dark Lord caught up to them. Surely he was already furious, it must only have been his desperation to find Potter that had kept the Dark lord from trying to summon them through the Mark. It was only a matter of time. Draco knew his aunt Bellatrix would do nothing to protect them, she was most likely the one to turn in her sister, brother in law, and nephew to the Dark Lord.

This was all Potters fault. If only him and his stupid blood-traitor sidekick had stayed put and faced their fate like the ridiculous Gryffindors they were, his family wouldn't be facing imminent doom. Hatred wound itself around Draco like a boa constrictor, preventing him from thinking of anything except revenge on his schoolboy rival who had ruined his life from the moment he stepped into Hogwarts when they were eleven.

Draco woke abruptly from a nightmare, jerking completely upright in his bed, green sheets sticking to his sweaty body. The images from his sleep were fleeting fast, and he only remembered flashes of a rope being pulled taught, a knot tied tightly in place. Sinking and suffocating.

It was only a dream. He was overreacting like some little kid. He pressed his hands to his face, pushing the ridiculous thoughts from his mind while his heartbeat slowed.

"Malfoy."

The voice caused him to jump, instinctively grabbing his wand from under his pillow and pointing it at the corner of his room where the sound orignated.

A shadowy form took a step forward.

Draco's breath caught in his throat as a shard of moonlight reflected against furious brown eyes.

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><p><strong>End Note:<strong> Sorry for the cliff hanger, I'll get the next chapter out soon though. I'm quite taken with this story and am interested to see how it pans out. Please review :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Fire and Powder

**Chapter:** 3.

**Necessary disclaimer:** See chapter 1

**Note:** Two updates in one day, I deserve some kind of award! It's midnight so I suppose it's technically tomorrow, but whatever. Don't get used to it, I'm never this good at updating. Expect the next chapter within the next few days, I'll do my best. _**STILL LOOKING FOR A BETA: MESSAGE ME IF YOU'RE INTERESTED**_** PLEASEEEEE.**

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><p>"Cowards die many times before their deaths;<br>The valiant never taste of death but once.  
>Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,<br>It seems to me most strange that men should fear;  
>Seeing that death, a necessary end,<br>Will come when it will come."  
>― William Shakespeare (Julius Caesar)<p>

Hermione Granger stood before him, eyes blazing, brown hair forming a halo around her face.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Draco shouted, his wand trembling as he took in the sight before him.

The white light of the spell surged towards Hermione and seemed to move completely through her while she stood, completely unaffected. "What—" Draco began, completely shocked, only to be cut off by the menacing look in Hermione's eyes as she stalked towards him.

"You—!" she exclaimed, her feet loud against the wood floor. "How dare you—!" she thrust her hand into her back pocket, reaching for her wand but finding only air. "Wh—where is it?" she stammered, panic bubbling up through her throat. "What did you do with my wand?!"

Draco sat with his back pressed against the wooden emblem on the headboard, completely stunned. "How—what—"

"WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY WAND?!" Hermione repeated, reaching forward and grabbing his nightshirt by the collar and pulling hard, her snarling face a mere inches from his. Grey eyes met brown.

"I have no idea what you're talking about—Release me this instant!" Draco spit at her, finally regaining some of his sense. He pushed the girl off him and fell back towards the headboard. "How did you—what are you—why are you in my room?!"

Hermione just glared at him.

"I killed you!" Draco glared back, crossing his arms across his chest defensively. It occurred to him that he might just be dreaming. A quick pinch to his arm proved that he wasn't. This had to be some elaborate joke then, there was no way this was really happening. He'd killed the mudblood with his own wand. He'd watched as his father disposed of the body. She was dead.

Yet here she stood, next to his bed, in Switzerland, in the middle of the night.

"I killed you—and—and—" he was unable to complete the thought, this whole situation completely out of his depth.

"And I'm obviously not dead, Malfoy! Despite your attempt! How could you—"

"How could _I_? You're the enemy, you're the reason we're in this war in the first place, your…_kind_" he spit out the word, "must be eliminated."

Hermione shot forward again, gripping his nightshirt in another firm hold, yanking him forward with one hand while the other slapped him across the face. "HOW DARE YOU!"

Draco pushed her off him for the second time that night, ignoring his stinging cheek.

Hermione took a deep breath, calming herself. She had to deal with this rationally. "You killed me, with an unforgivable…and then…there was nothing…and then I was here."

"You really expect me to believe—"

She cut him off again, "I know it sounds ridiculous, I—I don't understand either—I remember…dying…I suppose, and darkness. Then it was as though I was being pulled by something or to something, I'm not sure…and suddenly I was here, and you were waking up, and I'm sure there's a logical explanation about all of this…"

"Pulling…?" Draco trailed off, recalling feeling a similar sensation himself.

"Yes, it was…peculiar…where are we exactly?" Hermione asked suddenly, as she moved to look out the window into the dark winter night.

"Use that brain of yours and figure it out while you get out of my room," Draco told her, pulling the blankets up further over his body. The fire was practically nonexistent at this time of night, and the room was rather chilly. He was tired, and clearly insane. He had had enough talking to dead people who weren't really there for one night, thank you very much.

Hermione ignored his instructions and continued peering out the window, squinting to see the view in the little moonlight. She saw hills—no—mountains in the distance, and snow covered everything from the landscape to the cozy cottages lined up like dominos. The glass was icy, and as she reached her hand towards it she realized something startling: it should have felt cold. Instead, she felt nothing. Hermione tentatively touched her finger to the glass, thankful, at least, that it didn't go completely though as though the glass didn't exist whatsoever. She smeared her finger along the surface, drawing in a surprised breath when the frost didn't accumulate on her finger. She felt no change in texture, no difference in temperature, just solid matter under her finger no different than the ground beneath her feet.

"I'm dead," she whispered eerily into the window.

Draco scoffed. "Yes, thank you for clarifying, and I'm insane. Leave."

Hermione turned towards him, amazed at his indifference. How could he be so cruel? _Well,_ she thought, _this was the boy who killed me, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised_.

She was dead. The thought stopped her train of thought, as though her mind had reached an impassible wall. Sorrow flooded through her like an unstoppable ocean. Her entire existence was composed of nevers. Never would she marry. Never would she have children. Never would she have a career. Never would she see her friends again. Never would she see her parents, or her grandparents, or her neighbors, or her house. Never would she see Hogwarts. Never would she see the world or experience anything. Never.

Draco watched the light die in Hermione's eyes. He tried not to notice the tears brimming, and he definitely didn't think about the last time he had seen those brown eyes filled with unshed tears. He wanted this nightmare to end more than anything else in the world. Why him? Why couldn't he just succeed at his task and move on like everyone else? The other Death Eaters certainly didn't seem to report this problem. He had never heard of anyone else being visited by their victims. Not like this.

"Go," Draco said firmly, willing his words with all his might. "Be gone."

And she was.

One second she was standing by his bed, staring blankly in front of her as though she was watching the world end and was powerless to stop it, and then suddenly she was gone, fading back into the shadows. He was left staring at the place she had stood in front of the window. He was completely insane. Bonkers. Barmy.

Bloody hell.

He pressed his palms against his eyes, blinking hard. His pillow felt less comfortable now, and his sheets held a chill that did nothing to sooth him. _Tomorrow will be better_, he promised himself.

_This is all in my head._

But as he finally fell asleep, his last thought was of how he knew it wasn't.

Draco overslept the next morning, and woke, once again, with a start. Sun was streaming steadily in through the window, and if he listened closely enough he could hear children laughing nearby.

_What a dream_, he thought, recalling the incidents of last night. He wouldn't think about that. Not now.

He quickly got dressed and headed to the kitchen. His mother and father were waiting there, sitting quietly. The whole scene was eerie and unsettling.

"You overslept," Lucius said by way of greeting.

"I'm sorry, Father," Draco apologized, knowing his father hated lie ins. He was to wake up at a respectable hour if he wished to lead a respectable life. He knew better.

"Breakfast is on the counter," his mother informed him, nodding towards a plate of eggs and toast. He grabbed the breakfast and poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice before taking the chair between them. This table felt miniscule compared to the Manor dining table, which had enough space to seat 12 people comfortably. This table felt crowded just with three.

He ate his meal in silence as his father read a copy of the Daily Prophet and his mother sat staring out the window pensively.

He wanted to ask his father what was in the paper but knew better. Lucius would tell him if he thought he needed to know. As he cleared his plate, he caught sight of the front page headline: _Most Wanted: Harry Potter_. He wondered if the article would explain how he had escaped, yet again, from the Dark Lords clutches. He wondered if his father was wanted—if he was wanted. On second thought, he'd rather not know. Instead, he peered out the window at the snowy morning, and felt a stab of envy towards the muggles outside. Envy! Towards muggles! Now he knew he was losing it, truly. Yet, seeing them basking in their ignorance and happiness, he felt the familiar pang of jealousy.

"Why don't you go for a walk, dear," his mother spoke up, suddenly.

Draco looked at her, perplex. A walk? Outside? Weren't they wanted fugitives?

Lucius nodded at him and he got the message. They wanted to talk, uninterrupted, and this cottage was too small to allow for much privacy, plus they knew Draco was capable of breaking silencing charms.

"Alright," he agreed, stepping into the foyer.

"Don't stray too far, and remember your wand," Narcissa instructed as he was shrugging on his black wool coat.

"Of course, Mother," Draco responded, as if he would ever forget his wand. He wasn't an idiot.

The cold air greeted him like an old friend, and he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Nature was familiar.

He started down a familiar path towards the small Swiss town. Nobody was paying attention to him, but he cast a disillusionment charm over himself just in case. Now was an acceptable time to be paranoid.

The town was the same as he left it when he was younger. The same shops, the same thatched roofed homes, even some of the same people walking down the thin streets. He wondered, briefly, if the Muggle sweets store he'd begged his father to let him go in all those years ago was still there. He'd never been inside, his father had insisted that Muggle sweets were repugnant and should be avoided. But that hadn't made the chocolate in the window look any less enticing.

He settled himself on one of the empty benches in the street and settled in to people watch. This was what he did best: observe. It was one of his favorite Slytherin traits, and one that made him an apt spy.

Children in oversized coats rushed down the street, oohing and awing at the shop goods while their parents blundered after them. Smiles and laughter took the chill out of the air, and Draco almost found himself relaxing despite the desolate situation. Almost—until he felt a presence appear beside him.

"Where are we now, Malfoy?" a startled voice asked.

Luckily, Draco was already gripping the bench or he surely would have fallen off like an incompetent fool. Hermione Granger was next to him, seeming out of place in only her jumper and jeans, despite the snow on the ground.

"Stop doing that!" Draco shouted, before he realized he was invisible, and shouting was probably not a bright idea.

"I would if I could, honestly," Granger responded, looking around at her surroundings with interest.

"Where were you?" Draco asked.

Hermione pondered the question, chewing her lip in deliberation. Where was she, indeed. "I…I'm not sure…I remember being in your room…and now I'm here…" she looked around… "And it's morning?"

"Can you see me?" Draco asked, wondering how she could see through his disillusionment charm.

"Of course I can see you, don't be ridiculous!"

Draco checked to see his charm was in place—it was. It must just be Granger then.

"You still haven't told me where we are."

Draco sighed. He was insane. "Switzerland. Are you satisfied? Can you move on to your afterlife or heaven or hell or wherever it is you muggle borns go after death? I've answered all your questions, rest in peace, good day."

Granger huffed at him, crossing her arms across her chest. "I would go if I could, you can't possibly think I would choose to remain around _you_ in my afterlife!"

They were quiet for a moment before she spoke again, "Why Switzerland?"

"Honestly, Granger! You're haunting my presence from the grave and all you are interested in is knowing why my family is hiding in Switzerland?!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the blonde haired boy beside her. "Obviously I am interested in all aspects of this predicament, but as it seems you're as ignorant as I am, I am trying to get all the information I can, and this seemed like an easy enough question!"

Draco's frustration increased and he didn't bother to respond. Instead, he got up from the bench, starting back towards his cottage. Surely it had been enough time, his parents couldn't have had that much to talk about.

"Where are you going?" Granger asked after him, getting up as well and following a few steps behind him.

"Away," he answered resolutely, and when he turned around to see if she was still following him, all he saw was his own footsteps in the snow.

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><p><strong>End Note: <strong>I can't guarantee another quick update, but I will certainly try my best. Please review!


	4. Chapter 4

**Fire and Powder**

**Chapter: 4**

**Disclaimer: See chapter 1**

**Note: I managed to get this out today, I'm surprised. I really didn't think I was feeling it today, but alas I found myself writing into the evening. This isn't a particularly long chapter, but it keeps the plot moving along steadily. Thanks for favoriting/following, it would be super cool if I could get some more reviews. AND I STILL NEED A BETA! I feel like a broken record. **

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><p><em>"Unbeing dead isn't being alive"<br>- E.E. Cunnings_

Draco didn't allow himself to think about the dead Gryffindor as he reentered the cottage. There was no time for such insanity. He just couldn't deal with it. Not now.

"Ah, son," Lucius greeted from his chair, pale face reflecting the flames of the fire. "Take a seat."

Draco did as he was instructed, unsettled by the seemingly calm disposition of his father. Where was his mother?

"Your mother is composing a letter, she will be with us momentarily."

This response only put Draco further on edge. There was a storm brewing in his father's eyes, and he just hoped it wouldn't destroy them all.

They sat in silence for a moment, Draco sitting rigid against the back of the couch, Lucius staring into the fire.

"We are…continuing on."

Draco looked up, perplexed. So soon? Where could they possibly go? His father had said it himself, there was no escaping the Dark Lord.

Lucius continued before he had a chance to voice his confusion. "Cadiz, your mother and I believe, will be of more assistance to us."

Cadiz? Spain? Draco hadn't been to the Spanish coastal home in years. He vaguely remembered the city at all, he had been so young. It was their least frequented family home on the entire continent. Spain was always a bit too…rowdy…for Malfoys, but they had kept the home in the family due to Cadiz's notorious wizard population. It was known to house not only a large collection of European wizards, but also an assortment of more exotic ones. All in all, it was quite a mix, and Draco was having a tough time wrapping his head around why this location was deemed more appropriate than their present location.

"But Father, I fail to see how Cadiz is any different than Switzerland when it comes to the Dark Lord—"

"The Dark Lord is otherwise occupied at the moment and your mother is currently busy determining why and for how long. We will make haste while we can. Cadiz is known to house the more…experimental…forms of magic, and I have some very interesting connections to look into."

Draco took this information in, processing it slowly while he tried to determine what exactly his father wasn't telling him. Hmm.

"Experimental magic?" Draco clarified.

"Yes, neither dark nor light in nature. Perhaps something that can help us with our most pressing…problem," Lucius glanced down at his forearm and Draco got the hint.

Was it possible to remove the Dark Mark? Certainly it couldn't be. But his father would never waste time traveling so far if he did not have well enough reason to believe there was something to be gained. And what of these connections? Thoughts twisted around themselves in Draco's mind, a hurricane of confusion and questions. One question in particular pressed its way to the forefront of his brain.

"So we're switching sides?"

Lucius looked taken aback, almost gaping at his sons words.

"I would never go as far as to say we are switching sides! Malfoy's rooting for the light? That is preposterous! We can believe in the Dark ideals without supporting the Dark Lord. We can also believe in the Light without fighting with Potter and his ridiculous band of Gryffindor's." Draco struggled to force thoughts of Granger out of his head. Not now. "We are removing ourselves from the situation all together. We are neither light nor dark, we support no one but ourselves." Draco had never heard such a Slytherin statement in his life. He nodded at his father's explanation just as his mother walked back into the room.

"How long until we can expect a response?" Lucius asked his wife as she sat herself next to Draco on the couch.

"Andromeda has always been prompt, and we can just pray she will also being discreet," Narcissa responded. Draco was surprised at how easily his mother managed his aunt's name. She hadn't been mentioned in his household since before she could remember. It was a true testament to the desperation of the situation that she was forced to seek out the help of her outcast sister now.

"I suppose all there is to do is wait," Lucius said was a sense of finality.

Draco was quickly becoming bored of the appallingly small library of the cottage. He had read all of the books at least once at this point, and very few were worth reading a second time. It had been two days since his mother's letter was sent asking for information. They still hadn't heard from Andromeda, and hoped it wasn't a sign that she had no intention to help them whatsoever.

He was seated in his bedroom, back once again propped against the headboard, as he sifted through one of the less boring tomes on wandless magic.

"This room again?" Hermione asked, causing Draco to jump and drop his book onto the floor beside his bed.

"What do you think you're doing?!" he demanded, regaining his dignity. He wasn't frightened, of course not.

Hermione ignored his question and instead reached down to grab the book that had fallen. Draco was surprised that she was able to pick it up, that couldn't mean she was real, could it?

"Wandless magic, fifth edition, by Gerome Socrades?" Hermoine read, flipping through the pages. "Hm, this is one of his better works."

Draco rolled his eyes. Of course she had already read it, what _hadn't_ she read? Hermoine set the tome on the bed next to him and Draco resumed his questioning.

"How did you get here?"

Hermione's eyes blazed with anger. "You know perfectly well how I got here!" Her hand automatically reached for her wand, once again surprised to find her pocket empty.

"Yes, yes, very well," Draco responded. "But if I recall correctly, you should be _DEAD_ now, not in my _BEDROOM_!"

As soon as the words left his mouth he wished he could take them back. Not because of the hurt look on Granger's face, Merlin no, but because he shouted so loud there was no way his parents hadn't heard.

"Why you—" Hermione was cut off by the sound of knocking at the door.

"Draco?" The door opened suddenly and Narcissa was standing in the doorway, peering in with an alarmed look on her face. "Is everything alright? Were you talking to someone?" Her eyes scanned the room furiously for signs of an intruder.

Draco's eyes darted between Granger and his mother.

Hermione looked towards Narcissa, confused. Could she see her? Narcissa's eyes flitted smoothly over Hermione's form, nothing registering on her face.

"She can't see me," Hermione said, mostly to herself, deeply disturbed by this finding.

"No, mother, I'm sorry to have disturbed you." Draco's calm façade came back easily, and he feigned nonchalance. "I must have dozed off while reading. I was probably dreaming."

Narcissa stared at him a second longer, debating whether to accept his rather bizarre explanation. She had distinctly heard him shouting!

Draco sighed when his mother nodded once and closed the door behind her. Hermione was still reeling in her shock from the whole encounter.

"Why can _you_ see me?" she asked.

"I've been asking myself that very question for days now, thanks," he responded sarcastically. He had had enough of this nonsense, surely it needed to stop soon. Draco was struck with the sudden horror of being faced with this for the rest of his life. He wouldn't survive. He would need to be committed to St. Mugios or worse.

"There must be some logical explanation," Hermione pondered, mulling it over in her head. "I shouldn't be here."

"Finally we agree on something. Leave, you've haunted me enough for one day."

"Oh I'm sorry my presence annoys you so much, maybe you should just kill me again!" Hermione shouted.

Draco had to remember to keep his volume to a minimum as the anger boiled up inside him, demanding to hex something. "Trust me, I would if I could!"

"Right, cause you're a murderer! A soulless, evil, murderer!"

"Shut up!" he shouted, before he remembered to be quiet. "Shut up," he repeated more quietly. But she was already gone.

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><p><strong>End note: Funpleasant/stuff coming soon. Draco and Hermione just need to work out their issues first! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: Fire and Powder**

**Chapter: 5**

**Disclaimer: See first chapter. Basically this isn't mine.**

**Notes: I struggled to get this one out today, and I was super tired when reviewing so I apologize if I missed some things. (SPEAKING OF MISSING THINGS: I NEED A BETA STILL PLEASEEEEE SOMEONE VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE) Anyway, I chose Cadiz for this story because just a year ago I was in Cadiz, and I dunno, that tiny Spanish town always seems to make it into my writing. Some character development going on here...a little tension...I love tension...and angst...and, yeah. Okay well I'm pretty sure my typing is majorly disturbing my roommate who's attempting to sleep so goodnight. **

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><p><em>"I cannot fix on the hour, <em>_or the spot, or the look or the words, _  
><em>which laid the foundation. <em>_It was too long ago._  
><em> I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun"<em>  
><em>- Jane Austin (Pride and Prejudice)<em>

They had just sat down to breakfast the next morning when the familiar brown owl clawed at the window, a thin letter in its talon.

Narcissa read over the letter from her sister quickly, her face betraying nothing. When she was finished she blankly handed the letter to her husband. Draco's heart sank in his chest.

"We will leave at once," Lucius stated, setting the letter down after skimming it.

"What's happening?" Draco asked, even though he knew his father might find his question impertinent. But this concerned him. He needed to know.

His father's eyes were calm as he responded. "It is as we expected. The Dark Lord is occupied searching for Potter. We will continue to Cadiz while we can. The Dark Lord will never admit publicly that one of his most loyal servants has failed him, it only makes him appear weak."

Draco followed his line of thought, thinking it all a bit of a gamble, especially when dealing with a leader as unstable as the Dark Lord. But it wasn't his decision to make.

"I'll pack," Narcissa announced, leaving the room to do just that.

Draco peered out the window above the kitchen sink, seeing the childhood games of the muggles nearby, jealousy welling painfully in his chest.

Zürich Hauptbahnhof was one of the largest and busiest train stations in the world. Lucius assured his son it was perfectly safe for them to travel in such a conspicuous way. "Hiding in plain sight," he explained, "is often the cleverest method."

Draco felt the need to argue the point but knew his father wasn't in the mood for his attitude. At least they wouldn't be sitting with the lower classes, Merlin forbid, on the muggle train to Cadiz. Father had purchased the best seats money could buy in their own private first class cabin, so that was reassuring at least.

"This is certainly a change in scenery," Hermione said, peering around at the linoleum floors and concrete walls.

Draco didn't bother to look at her as he sat on the bench next to his mother. They were waiting for their train to begin boarding. His father was standing rigidly nearby, somehow managing to look both confident and uncomfortable in his Muggle suit and trousers.

Of course his own personal menace wouldn't be limited to his private time. No, of course not. She now showed up in public places, heaven forbid he could expect to proceed through his day like a normal person. Not that anything about his present situation was normal to begin with, but lurking dead Gryffindor's certainly weren't helping matters.

"Not even a hello?" Hermione asked, pretending to look offended. "Where are your manors, Malfoy?"

She looked between him and his parents, "What would your parents say?"

Draco glared at her and she glared back.

An announcer on the intercom informed them that there train was now arriving at the platform. Lucius motioned for them to follow him towards their platform, Narcissa reaching to take her husbands arm while Draco trailed behind.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked as Draco left without glancing in her direction.

"Wait!" she shouted, scrambling after him. "What's going on?"

"Mind your own damn business, mudblood," Draco snapped under his breath.

Hermione ignored his jab. She was used to him saying such cruel things, and she wouldn't dream of giving him the satisfaction of knowing how much they affect her.

"Is this…Switzerland?" she asked, taking note of the signs and connecting the dots.

"Brilliant observation, it only took you how long?" Draco murmured.

Hermione huffed angrily next to him but remained silent as she followed him to the platform.

The train pulled in and people rushed in droves to board. "Draco, dear, keep up," Narcissa said, turning towards her son briefly before stepping onto the train after her husband.

"Yes, mother," Draco responded automatically. He took one last look at the train station, Muggles bustling every which way with their briefcases and trunks full of belongings. He suddenly understood why his father felt comfortable traveling this way. It was easy to get lost in such a crowd.

"What are you waiting for?" Hermione questioned. He looked up to see she was already on the train, standing to the side waiting for him to join her. People were pushing past him, and he was horrified to see people stepping directly though Hermione as though she wasn't there. Most gruesome, indeed. Hermione realized what was happening at once and pressed closer to the inside wall of the train to keep out of the way.

Draco gripped the handle and pulled himself up.

Switzerland passed swiftly outside the window, rushing by like a sped up Muggle film. Hermione sat in the open seat next to Draco, as far away from the Slytherin as the first class bench would allow. The pale forms of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy sat directly across from her, completely oblivious of her presence. She didn't like being in such close proximity with the Malfoys, especially Lucius, who had tried to kill her and her friends on more than one occasion.

She glanced towards the boy next to her, who sat pensively staring out the window. He hadn't looked at her since boarding the train, and Hermione didn't understand why that upset her so much. Perhaps, she thought, because she felt she deserved his attention. He had _killed her_. _Taken her life_. And now he just felt as though he could _ignore her_? She didn't understand why she was here, but she highly doubted she was hanging around Malfoy in her afterlife so she could be treated like she was invisible. That happened enough in her life before she died, she certainly didn't need to continue doing that for all of eternity, did she? All of these thoughts of an eternity spent in this miserable hell of an afterlife sent Hermione spiraling into another pit of depression.

Draco watched the snowy landscape transform outside the window. It was hard to admit to himself how much he was going to miss Switzerland and his families cottage. He still wasn't completely sold on the idea of Cadiz holding all the answers, but only time would tell. He didn't want to think about what would happen if Cadiz didn't pan out as his father planned. Would they have to continue on somewhere else? The planet was only so large, and by then The Dark Lord could possibly control most of it.

And then there was the issue of the girl next to him whom he had resolutely been ignoring since he saw the people walking right through her when he boarded the train. How was he going to get rid of this ghost (or whatever she was, that was another problem to be solved) that refused to leave him alone?

There was simply too much to think about. Instead, he allowed himself the scenery to completely absorb him, forcing solely on the horizon.

"Son," Lucius prompted, "We'll be there momentarily."

_I must have drifted off,_ thought Draco as he rubbed the tension out of his neck. The landscape was completely different outside the train now, the Swiss Alps worlds behind them. An employee announced that the train would be arriving at their station in a minute, and Draco followed his parents towards the door to their compartment.

He was startled to discover Hermione was still with him, sleeping with her head against the wall, brown curls falling into her face. Draco hesitated in the doorway. He could leave with his parents now, and what would happen? Would she stay here, wake up in a confused daze, never to see him again? Or would she simply disappear or whatever she does to wherever she goes when she's not with him?

"Draco?" his mother prompted from the hallway, confused at what was keeping her son.

"Coming," Draco responded, looking back quickly at Hermione before following his mother without a second glance.

They waited at the exit as the train came to a stop. The doors slid open, letting in the humid Spanish air. Lucius helped his wife down the steps, and they waited at the bottom, wondering why their son suddenly looked so conflicted.

"Draco—" Lucius began, only to be cut off.

"One moment, I forgot something."

Lucius pondered the unidentifiable flash in his son's eyes. Was it guilt? Concern?

Hermione was where Draco left her, her hair obscuring even more of her face. Draco had the sudden ridiculous urge to brush it out of the way, but was immediately repulsed with himself for having such a thought about a mudblood. He was truly losing it.

"Granger," he said, reaching out to push Hermione's shoulder in an intentionally not gentle manner.

Hermione jerked awake, looking up at Draco with startled brown eyes. "Was I sleeping?"

Draco nodded. "Obviously."

"I didn't know I could do that," she responded before looking around the compartment and realizing it was completely empty, save her and Draco. Where had everyone gone? The landscape was still outside the window, so they were no longer moving. Where were they now?

"Yes, well, now's not the time for analyzing the effects of sleep in the dead, let's go." Draco turned on his heel and headed back towards his parents, feeling Hermione's footsteps close behind him.

"Did you find whatever it was you were looking for?" Narcissa asked casually as Draco rejoined his parents on the platform looking somewhat more at ease.

Draco glanced at Hermione who came up beside him. "I suppose."

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><p><strong>End note: Please reviewfavorite/follow, it makes me write faster, seriously. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: Fire and Powder**

**Chapter: 6**

**Disclaimer: See chapter 1**

**Notes: THANK YOU SO MUCH TO MY NEW BETA TONKS-666 FOR VOLUNTEERING TO HELP ME! And a big thanks to everyone who favorites/followed/reviewed, you make my life. Writing this was great because I got to re-experience Cadiz, if you've ever been hopefully you will agree with my description. If you haven't I hope I've successfully given you a taste of my favorite Spanish city. Well, I'm off. Enjoy!**

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><p>"In sorrow we must go, but not in despair.<br>Behold! We are not bound for ever to the circles of the world,  
>and beyond them is more than memory."<br>― J.R.R. Tolkien

The Spanish sun shone in stark defiance of winter. Draco wandered down the vaguely familiar streets, wondering how people could survive this type of heat year round. To think that this was winter and it actually got hotter here! The sun was never favorable to Malfoys, their skin was too fair, the sun too harsh. Draco preferred darker, cooler climates, such as England or Switzerland.

But he couldn't deny the special-charm, of Cadiz. The Spanish city was quaint, with a constant coastal breeze and old cobblestone streets that seemed to only become more and more narrow the further you ventured into the heart of the city. Children played football in the streets, shopkeepers conversed with locals, and housewives hung clothes over windowsills to dry in the humid air. The Muggle sections of the city wrapped around the Wizarding streets, completely oblivious to the magic lying literally around the corner.

Draco's family home was just outside the main Wizarding alleyway, in a small Spanish style town home. The house was old, which somehow gave it more character. It once was owned by a Spanish explorer before the turn of the 18th century, and some of the original furniture still rested within these walls. Draco had only been to this home once or twice before, and the house felt more like a stranger's than his own. The main entrance was a subtle yet ornate wooden doorway facing one of the main streets. It opened to a Spanish style courtyard, complete with a small fountain which Draco was surprised to see was still running.

"Well this is very...Spanish," Hermione said, sounding surprised.

She was following closely behind Draco to prevent herself from being locked out by Narcissa and Lucius, who were completely oblivious to her continued presence. This was the longest she'd been able to remain with Draco since she first began appearing (or whatever it was that was happening, she was still very confused). She briefly wondered at why she had stuck around so long this time, but was distracted by the home she now found herself in.

The walls of the courtyard were adorned with maroon and yellow mosaics. A distinctly Gryffindor combination, she decided. She was going to comment on exactly that, but when she took note of Malfoy's brooding expression, she chose to hold her tongue.

"We will rest until dinner, then we will meet my contact on Via Sombre," Lucius said, waving his wand at the door to unlock the various wards.

The air inside the town home held the same stale quality as the Swiss cottage, only this time there was a heavy layer of humidity to make it all the more suffocating. Lucius immediately began resetting the protective wards while Narcissa proceeded upstairs. Draco was conflicted. Hermione stood nearby, looking around the house with interest, and he didn't know what to do. Should he pretend she wasn't there? Should he demand she leave?

"Is this another of your family's homes?" Hermione questioned, looking around at the old furniture. "You must have a house in every European country!"

Draco didn't bother responding, deciding suddenly to act on his first impulse ignoring her completely. Maybe if he pretended she wasn't here, she would go away. He followed his mother up the stairs, his footsteps reverberating loudly against the old wood. The hallway at the top was narrow and dark, veering in two directions. He had to search through a few of the doorways to decide on which room was his. He'd never visited this house often enough to claim a single bedroom as his, so he settled now in one of the rooms overlooking the street. It was marginally smaller than many of the other rooms, but the street provided for ample distraction, not to mention the size reminded him of the cozy quality of the Swiss cottage.

"I've never been to Spain," Hermione commented, having followed him up the stairs. She was now peering out the large window, watching a woman carry a basket of laundry down the street.

"And you still haven't," Draco quipped, finally acknowledging her existence. "You're dead."

Hermione glared at him. "Thanks to you."

"You're welcome," Draco responded sarcastically, fingering through the books on the bedside table. He'd read them already, but only a few times.

"Do you think you could not be a complete bastard for just a few minutes?"

"What good would that possibly do, Granger?"

"I don't know, maybe you could figure out this predicament!"

"I don't know if it's occurred to you that I don't want to deal with this particular 'predicament' right now, I'm actually really busy being otherwise occupied with far more important matters—"

"No!" she shouted, a nasty scowl on her face. "You don't get to be 'otherwise occupied' you big jerk! You got us into this mess and you're going to get us out of it! I will not do this for all of eternity, Malfoy! I will not!"

Draco looked at her, seeing the desperate, almost deranged look in her eyes. An unexpected pang of guilt gripped his heart, but he quickly pushed it away. He was not going to feel guilty about killing her. He was following orders. He was doing what he had to do. This was war.

"Trust me, Granger, this is no picnic for me either," he assured her, pulling one of the books out of the stack and handing it to her. "You want out of this? Then get reading. You like doing that, don't you?"

Hermione grabbed the book from him, letting out a frustrated huff. "What's this got to do with anything…" she trailed off, reading the cover. Spirits and Souls in Dark Magic. Hmm, perhaps Draco wasn't a complete idiot.

Draco was incredibly alarmed that Hermione was still with him when it came time to meet Father's contact. He was sure she would have disappeared to wherever it was she went by then. It had almost been a full day, she'd never stuck around this long before. What was happening?

She'd read quietly in a chair next to his bed up until dinner, completely engrossed in the text. Draco had ignored her, focused on his own reading, instead. When it came time for tea, he left her reading in his room while he joined his parents. Dead people didn't eat, did they? Draco didn't think so, and Hermione made no move to join him. When he returned after dinner, she was still in the same chair, daylight fading rapidly. She turned to him as he stood conflicted in the doorway. Should he invite her with him? Order her to follow him? Tell her to leave again? He didn't know how to proceed.

Hermione decided for him. "Going somewhere?"

He just nodded, suddenly very distracted by the way the sunlight cast a reddish glow to her hair.

He was losing it.

"Let's go then," she said, standing up and setting the book on the windowsill.

The moon cast Via Sombre in a faint white glow, giving it the look of belonging to another world. The Wizarding street was alive with exotic cultures, people, and artifacts. Magic buzzed like a wild creature, unrestrained like the Spanish night.

Father was right, thought Draco, if a solution to the Dark Mark exists, we'll find it here.

Hermione had never seen anything like it. She had only ever been to Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, both of which were special in their own way, but Via Sombre was something else altogether. The shops varied from ordinary wizarding findings to things she had never heard of. There were wizards and witches from all over the world! And the magic, oh she had never felt such an intoxicating amount of magic in one place in her life. How could the Muggles nearby not feel it? This place practically radiated magical energy!

"We'll be meeting him at the apothecary," Lucius explained, weaving around a snake charmer who had set up his performance in the middle of the narrow street.

"Meeting who?" Hermione questioned close to Draco's ear. She was close, too close in Draco's opinion. He was unable to focus on much other than the proximity of her body to his. Losing it.

"A contact," he responded under his breath, hoping his voice was drowned out by the general sounds of the street and that his parents wouldn't hear him talking to nobody.

Hermione processed this with what she already knew about the situation. The Malfoys were hiding. Possibly from Voldemort? But why? Lucius was one of his most faithful servants, why would the Death Eater need to escape to the other side of the continent? She was perplexed. Perhaps this "contact" they were seeing would help clear things up. She knew Draco would never tell her anything, no matter how much she yelled at him that this was his fault.

The street got narrower, swallowing them whole as the lights dimmed around them. The store names became more and more obscure. Hermione read each of them with increasing confusion: Valdez Gems and Dark Stones, The Fountain of Youth, Moruuan's Spiritual and Deceased Readings—"Draco!"

She grabbed his arm to get his attention, as if her shout hadn't already succeeded in doing just that. Draco stared at her hand on his arm questioningly, wondering why he hadn't immediately shrugged her off. "What?" he quietly asked, finally prying her fingers from his forearm.

"Look!" she said, gesturing to the dark sign. He had to squint to read in the dark: Moruuan's Spiritual and Deceased Readings. Hmm. That did indeed sound promising, he had to admit.

"Its right around this corner. Hurry, Draco," Lucius said, jolting Draco from his thoughts. Now wasn't the time to deal with this madness. His main concern was his family, not Granger.

He shook his head at her. "No time," he said, following his father around the corner into the darkness.

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><p><strong>End Note: Please reviewfollow/favorite/whatever! THANKS FOR READING!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: Fire and Powder**

**Chapter: 7**

**Disclaimer: See the first chapter. Basically, these aren't my characters. Excuse me while I weep.**

**Note: Thanks everyone for getting this story to over 1200 hits in just over a week, wow! Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed and to tonks-666 for betaing! I made an 8tracks playlist for this story (it was a good way to procrastinate instead of actually writing, hahah) which I'll link on my profile if you wanted to check it out. I'm also going to wait until my chapters are longer between postings, so don't be alarmed if updates don't come as frequently, that'll hopefully be made up for in the length of individual chapters. Happy reading!**

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><p><em>"Life isn't fair, it's just fairer than death, that's all." <em>  
><em>- William Goldman (The Princess Bride)<em>

This apothecary was much different than any Draco had been in before. Potion ingredients from all over the world lined the walls, divided by an assortment of bizarre artifacts. A human skull, sharks teeth, salamander spleen, dragon scales…Draco imagined Professor Snape would have an aneurysm in this place.

The lighting was so dim that Draco didn't even notice the man leaning against the back counter until Father greeted him. "Mr. Narang, how nice it is to see you again."

The man stepped from the shadows, a slight grin lifting his features. He had tan skin, dark, slicked back hair, and inky eyes. Draco figured he was around his father's age, perhaps a little older.

The man reached out his hand for Lucius to shake. "Ah, Lucius. Call me Sunik, of course."

Lucius almost smiled at him, much to Draco's surprise. "If you insist. You know my wife, and this is my son, Draco." Draco shook the man's hand. "I know Sunik from my brief travels in India, he is the main reason we have come to Cadiz," Lucius explained.

Father traveled to India? Draco wondered to himself. He was sure to not let his confusion show on his face, it was always best to act like he was completely in control of the situation.

Hermione hovered to the side, eyes scanning along the vials and oddities. Draco hoped to God she didn't disturb anything. The last thing he needed was his dead menace to ruin this meeting for his family. Even if he didn't fully understand why they were here, he knew it was important.

Lucius and Sunik exchanged pleasantries and Draco took that moment to check on Hermione, who appeared to be engrossed in the potions.

"This is truly amazing!" Hermione exclaimed, pointing out a variety of potions and launching into an explanation on how wolf fur and tarantula eyes are harvested. Draco tuned her out, turning back to the interactions between his father and the Indian man.

"So, Lucius, enough small talk. What brings you to Cadiz? I've heard the situation in England is growing…desperate," Sunik said, leaning on the counter casually. Desperate was certainly an understatement.

Draco watched his father's face for clues, but he betrayed nothing. "Desperate, indeed. War has been declared."

"Really?" Sunik gasped. "So soon?"

"Soon? This war has been brewing for years. Decades. The Dark Lord is no longer the strong leader we used to know." Draco did not miss his use of the word "we". Sunik must have been a Death Eater, or at least been intimate with the Dark Lord's inner circle. His father would have never mentioned something so casually. "We escaped while we could, but even on the other side of the continent we are not free from his clutches."

"You're speaking of dark magic, are you not?"

His father nodded, thrusting his arm forward and pushing his sleeve up to reveal the Mark.

Sunik's eyes grew wide as he took in the image of the skull and snake. Draco subconsciously gripped his own forearm.

"Ah, dark magic, indeed. Very dark," Sunik murmured, reaching out to trace the image with a finger. "Is there pain?"

"Not yet," Lucius replied. "There will be shortly, it is how the Dark Lord summons his followers." He paused, as if reliving something. "And how he punishes them."

Draco shuttered unintentionally at his father's casual mention of the Dark Lords punishments. He had personally experienced the Dark Lord's wrath one too many times. It was hell. He would never forget being gripped by so much pain that death seemed like a kind friend in comparison.

"I will need to run a number of spells before we experiment in any way," Sunik explained, already moving to remove his wand from his robe pocket. "Is it just you effected?" the man's eyes darted between Narcissa and Draco. Draco instinctively moved his Marked arm away from the curious gaze.

"My son," Lucius responded, "has also taken the Mark."

Sunik's eyes appraised Draco, trying to understand what would have led both a father and son to put themselves in such a vulnerable situation. "Very grave times, indeed."

Lucius nodded his agreement.

Smash!

Draco's turned just in time to see the look of horror on Hermione's face as, while reaching for something, she knocked a potion vial off balance, sending it shattering to the shop floor.

"What in the name of Merlin—?!" Sunik exclaimed, gaping at the smoking liquid on the floor.

"I'm so sorry!" Hermione gasped out, seeing Draco's furious expression. She usually wasn't this clumsy, but in her haste to get a closer look at the basilisk venom, she accidentally bumped dragon saliva. It appeared to be acidic from the way it was melting the tile.

Seeing the shocked expressions on his parents and Sunik's faces, he quickly remembered to appear surprised as well. To them the potion appeared to have fallen on its own accord. How was he going to cover this up?

"Did you do this, Draco?" Lucius demanded while Sunik waved his wand over the spill.

Draco was distracted suddenly by the Indian man standing directly on top of Hermione, who was too distraught to realize what was happening.

"Draco, answer me when I am speaking to you," Lucius repeated, anger building in his eyes, though his expression remained calm.

"I'm sorry, father, I must not have been paying attention." Draco hated taking responsibility for something a clumsy Gryffindor did. A clumsy, dead Gryffindor, no less.

But he hated being called crazy even more.

"Draco, I raised you to behave better than this. My sincerest apologies, Sunik. I will pay for that potion, of course, and any damages." Lucius reached his hand into his pocket to retrieve his coin purse, but was stopped by a raised hand from his old friend.

"Do not concern yourself, Lucius, it's not the first time an accident occurred in my store, and I daresay it will not be the last. However, I don't believe it was Draco here that broke the potion." Sunik was staring at Draco with an almost predatory look in his eyes. Draco took a step back.

"I am no Seer," Sunik continued as Hermione moved closer to Draco. "But I do feel a presence around your son, Lucius."

Fuck.

Hermione gasped, and then quickly covered her mouth with her hand, as if this man could suddenly see her. And for all she knew, he could.

"What are you talking about? What kind of presence?" Narcissa asked, stepping closer to her son.

Draco forced his face to remain unconcerned. He wouldn't falter by showing fear or confusion, he would remain confident and collected.

"Like I said, I am no Seer, but I do often sense presences amongst my customers. Presences such as demons, ghosts, souls, even angels, that is if you believe in such things," Sunik explained, looking around the apothecary as if he saw faces in the shadows. "Something..." he pondered, looking pointedly at the space around Draco, "…very strong…has attached itself to your son."

Lucius looked between his old friend and his son, unsure which side to take on this matter. "Draco," he turned to his son. "What do you think?"

Draco wasn't sure which way to play his cards. He subtly made eye contact with Granger, hoping she could come up with some kind of plan to get them out of this mess. It was her fault, after all. She had to go break the stupid potion vial.

"Deny," Hermione said, noting the panic in Draco's eyes. "Don't tell them."

Hermione didn't trust this man. Any friend of Lucius was an enemy of hers by default.

Draco didn't have time to ponder the suggestion. Granger was intelligent enough, it would have to do. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Sunik narrowed his eyes further. "You would not necessarily be aware of such an occurrence, young man."

"What do you suggest we do?" Narcissa asked, concern growing for her son.

Sunik continued to look at Draco as though the blonde boy had become an evil spirit himself. "He should see an expert immediately. If it's a lurking demon it could be incredibly harmful to him and those around him. There's a nearby spirit consultation service, I highly suggest Draco seek their assistance as soon as possible. Until then, I'm going to have to ask him to remove himself from my store, I cannot afford any more damage."

Draco almost laughed out loud when he referred to Granger as a demon! She was annoying, that was for certain, but a demon?! Not bloody likely! She had more good in her than was healthy.

"Draco, why don't you do just that while I treat Sunik to a round of drinks for his generosity," Lucius instructed, always the negotiator. "You can certainly make it back home alone without incident."

Draco knew there was no disagreeing. He nodded his consent and with one last glance at Sunik, who was still looking at him as though he was about to spontaneously combust, he left the apothecary.

"Way to go, Granger," Draco began as soon as the door banged shut behind them.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. And she was. That Sunik man seriously overreacted, and she most definitely wasn't a demon, how dare he!

Draco noticed the legitimate sympathy in her words and decided to drop the subject. Sunik had attacked her enough as it was, and he didn't have it in him to argue right then.

"Yeah, well, it looks like you'll get your way after all," he said as they approached Moruuan's Spiritual and Deceased Readings. "Hopefully this will be a more constructive visit."

"I'll try to keep my destruction to a minimum," Hermione assured him sarcastically.

"Don't bother," he deadpanned. "Demons from hell can't control themselves, I understand."

Hermione punched his shoulder, and Draco fought a grin while he rubbed it, though it didn't really hurt. "There's no need for violence, you bloody evil creature!"

Hermione couldn't help herself and she burst out laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Draco fought for a solid ten seconds before giving in and joining her. He realized what he was doing—laughing with Granger!—and abruptly stopped as he reached for the shop door.

A bell rang above them as they proceeded into the dimly lit room. The store was small, barely large enough to fit a medium sized wooden table with a few chairs scattered around it. There was a large crystal ball in the center of the table, but other than that the room was scarce. A door on the back wall appeared to lead to a back room.

"Is anyone here?" Hermione asked, looking around the empty space, confused.

"Er, hello?" Draco called out, feeling awkward and completely ridiculous.

There was a crashing sound from the back room, followed by silence, before the door to the back room abruptly opened. A short and plump Spanish woman appeared, wearing dark purple robes that cascaded around her feet and her dark hair was piled in a messy bun atop her head. As smile lit up her features as she took in the sight in front of her.

"Um, hello, do you speak English?" Draco greeted awkwardly.

The woman's eyes twinkled at him. "Si, yes," she answered with a thick Spanish accent.

"Great," he said, deciding to just get on with it. "I was referred to you because I apparently have a…presence?"

The woman's smile grew even larger. "Si, I can see that."

She looked directly at Hermione. "Hello, dear."

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><p><strong>End note: I'd apologize for the mild cliff hanger, but I'm not sorry, haha! The next update will come in the next few days, please reviewfollow/favorite in the mean time! Thanks for reading, be well. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: Fire and Powder**

**Chapter: 8**

**Disclaimer: See chapter one, yo.**

**Note: Hello again lovely readers! Thanks for over 600 visits two days, that's seriously amazing. I said I was going to wait to post my chapters until they were more substantial in length, and I somewhat succeeded in doing that. This one at least is over the 2k word mark, but hopefully the next ones will be even longer, I just felt this one ended at a good place. Thanks again to Tonks-666 for betaing the first 3/4ths of this! Any existing errors are entirely mine, I was too anxious to post this, haha. Enjoy.**

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><p><em>"Redemption is not perfection. <em>  
><em>The redeemed must realize their imperfections."<em>  
><em>- John Piper<em>

Hermione and Draco stared at the woman, identical dumbfounded expressions on their faces.

"There's no need to look so surprised," the woman said, moving to take a seat in a more luxurious looking chair on the other side of the table.

Hermione and Draco shared a look.

"You—you can see me?" Hermione stuttered.

"Of course, querida, now take a seat," the woman instructed, motioning to the seats across from her.

Draco regained his cool before Hermione did, and he slid into one of the chairs around the table, feeling incredibly confused.

"But how?" Hermione was still gaping.

"Sit, Granger." Draco was growing impatient. He wanted answers.

"Lo siento, where are my manners?" The woman pointed to herself, smiling widely. "I am Señora Pina."

Draco reached a hand out to the Spanish woman, remembering his own manners. "I am Draco, and my…companion is Hermione. Can you explain what is going on?"

Hermione had managed to calm herself and was now sitting in the chair next to Draco, eying the woman warily. She had become accustomed to not being seen by anyone except Malfoy, and it was disconcerting for this woman to suddenly be able to see her. Could this mean she wasn't really dead? Was that even possible?

"Of course, you must be very confused," the woman's smile broadened, yellow teeth reflecting the candlelight.

"That's an understatement," Draco muttered to himself. Señora Pina pretended not to hear him.

"I'm very sorry for your passing, dear," she said to Hermione.

Hermione's heart sank in her chest as all the hope that had welled up inside her since entering the shop abruptly left her body. She felt the prickling of tears and willed them away.

"You!" The woman turned to Draco, her smile disappearing. "You killed this poor girl!"

Draco scowled. Who was this woman to attack him? She knew nothing about his life! How dare she assume he was in the wrong! She didn't know anything! He wanted to hex this woman—punish her for thinking she could tell him anything—but he caught a glimpse of Granger in his peripheral vision, saw the tears welling in her eyes, though they didn't fall. Anger was suddenly replaced by something much sharper, which clenched his heart in a way that almost made him almost want to apologize.

No. Never. He would not apologize for something he hadn't wanted to do in the first place. This is war, he repeated to himself.

He pushed the thoughts abruptly to the back of his mind, resorting to the mask he'd perfected over years of dealing with the Dark Lord.

"You don't know the full story, Señora, but yes she is dead, that much is clear. What's not clear is why, despite that fact, she's sitting next to me right now." Draco folded his hands on the table in front of him, all business.

Señora Pina allowed the hostility to leave her eyes, instead trying to assess the situation. "Si, I have suspicions, yes." She retrieved her wand from a pocket in her purple robe and pointed it at Hermione.

In the blink of an eye Draco had produced his own wand and had it trained on the woman.

The woman raised her eyebrows, surprised. Hermione was equally confused, why would Draco ever be compelled to protect her? Didn't he kill her just a few days ago?

"Lo siento, I should have warned you," the woman held her wand in surrender, and only when it was pointed away from Hermione did Draco replace his in his robe. "I wish to check the young lady for spells or charms, is that okay, querida?"

Draco noticed how she pointedly asked Granger, not him, for permission. He slumped in his seat, embarrassed at having overreacted. He'd protected Granger, for Merlin's sake!

Hermione nodded at the woman and held still as she waved her wand intricately, a faint pink glow emitting from the tip, growing stronger as it moved towards her. The light swirled around, wrapping tightly around Hermione like a rope. "Ah," the woman commented.

"What?" Draco asked, but the woman ignored him.

Señora recited an incantation and the pink light faded. She redirected her wand to Draco, speaking softly in Latin. The pink light appeared again, similarly embracing Draco like a rope.

"It's the same," Hermione commented. She searched her mind for what it could mean but continuously came up blank. She'd never read anything about this! How was that even possible?!

"Do you know what it is?" Draco asked anxiously.

The woman nodded. "Si."

They watched impatiently as the woman abruptly got up and exited through the back door.

"Wait—where do you think you're going?" Draco demanded. "You can't just leave! Excuse me—"

"Draco!" Hermione scolded, grabbing his arm. "Shhh! I think she's coming back."

Draco scowled at her, but did nothing to remove her burning hand from his bicep. And she did nothing to remove her hand.

Hermione was right, within seconds the woman was pushing the door open again, her arms full with a rather large, old, leather book. She set it on the table with a clunk, dust spewing out of the pages like a cloud.

"I have never seen this particular spell before," Señora Pina explained, opening the book and skimming quickly through the pages, searching for something. "But I have heard legends."

"Legends?" Hermione asked, once again scouring her brain for any hint of what this woman was talking about. She had to have studied it at some point! She'd studied everything! Draco watched the confusion play out on Hermione's face, the frenzy in her eyes as her mind ran through ideas. Her hand tightened on his arm and Draco gripped the armrest as a warm sensation seemed to travel from her fingers through his entire arm.

"_Nodum de Animae_," the woman stated, running her finger over a section of the large tome.

Hermione worked out the Latin translation in her head. "Soul knot?"

The woman nodded. "Si, Knot of the Soul, very ancient, yes." She pushed the book towards them, pointing out the Latin heading. Hermione and Draco leaned closer to read the text.

_Nodum de Animae, Spell, 600 ad,_

_Nodum de Animae, or Knot of the Soul, involves the uniting of two individual souls. It is the strongest of soul bonding spells, for it transpires after the death of one of the involved souls. The spell is performed by a third party, whom performs Nodum de Animae on one of the individuals who is to be bonded. The first bonded soul invokes the rest of the spell when he or she performs the killing curse (see Avada Kedevera) on another individual whose soul will thus be bonded to their killer. Their souls are intertwined, and the second will usually appear to the other as a ghost until redemption is achieved. _

_Very few cases of Nodum de Animae have been studied. It can be traced back to 600 ad, when rulers would perform the spell on quarreling subjects, resulting in either cooperation or death for both parties. If the two spirits achieve full redemption, then the second spirit can return to life. If the two spirits cannot reach full redemption, then both souls must pass on. _

_Nodum de Animae lost popularity beginning around the turn of the 12th century, and has scarcely been seen since._

Draco's head was spinning. He was under a bonding spell? To Granger? And either they both live or they both die? How did this happen? Who would have wanted this to happen?

Hermione was equally overwhelmed. The hope that swelled in her chest at learning it might be possible to come back to life was immediately squelched by the equal possibility of imminent death—for both of them.

"I'm sorry, but what does this mean?" Hermione asked, pushing the book back towards the woman who was looking at them appraisingly.

"It is confusing, si, querida. Someone has cast _Nodum de Animae_ on you," the woman looked pointedly at Draco, "and your souls are bonded."

Hermione's hand dropped finally from his arm as though she suddenly realized it was there. "But who?" she asked, turning to Draco. It was him that the spell was performed on, not her. "Who would want to do that to you? Why?"

Draco scowled. Who wouldn't perform something like this on him? That sounded like the better question. "Is this dark magic?" he asked, needing clarification.

Señora Pina shook her head, "No, no, dark magic is a modern concept. In the time this was used there was neither dark nor light magic, though, si, many of the same principles are at work as in today's dark magic."

He pondered the list of people that could be responsible. "A Death Eater, possibly," he listed. "Or The Dark Lord, in retribution for not following orders."

"He punished you for not killing Dumbledore?" Hermione asked, looking at him with widening eyes.

Draco didn't even bother asking how she knew so much about his activities with the Dark Lord. Potter probably spread his secrets all around the Gryffindor Tower.

Hermione gasped suddenly as a realization hit her. "Dumbledore!"

"Yes, Granger, I failed to kill Dumbledore, how astute of you," Draco drawled, scowling angrily.

"No! Dumbledore cast it! He knew you were going to kill him, and he cast it to prevent you from actually killing him!"

Draco was startled by her revelation. "That's…absurd," he said, not really believing himself. He knew Dumbledore suspected him—the old coot seemed to always know everything that went on at Hogwarts—but was he certain enough to cast an ancient spell to prevent himself from actually dying? Draco considered this, and realized that Dumbledore was crazy and brilliant enough that of course he would do such a ridiculous thing. Draco mentally shuttered at the thought of being trapped with the old wizard instead of Granger. He almost felt thankful that he hadn't killed Dumbledore when he was supposed to.

"It's not absurd and you know it," Granger told him.

He did know it.

"The book mentioned full redemption, can you clarify what that means?" Hermione asked, questions swimming rampantly through her brain.

"Ah, si, full redemption," Señora began, staring off into space. "Full redemption is very powerful, yes."

"Yes, we've gathered that," Draco huffed, exasperated. "But what is it?"

Señora looked Draco sharply in the eye, annoyed at his impatience. "Full redemption means total…how you say reparative? Reparation? For your sins. The spell is involves one person killing another, but only the body is dead. The souls are bound, in the act of killing, and souls cannot die. If you can fully redeem your sins…" she paused, looking pointedly at both of them, "together, then you, querida, can return to the living." Her face hardened and she stared back into space. "But if you fail, you both pass on."

"What sins?" Hermione asked, trying to fully comprehend the situation.

"No se, I do not know, querida, only you know. You both must make up for your trespasses."

Draco massaged his temple. He was most definitely getting a headache. This would be the death of him—literally. Make up for his trespasses? The majority of his life had been composed of trespass after trespass! This was simply not possible.

"Both of our sins?" Hermione clarified.

"Si."

Hermione was distraught. "All of them?"

"I cannot say for certain, querida, but I would say the largest trespasses should be your focus. I can think of one right now." Señora's dark eyes narrowed at Draco.

"How? How can I redeem myself for killing her if the only way to do just that would be to bring her back from the dead? And you just said I can't do that until I redeem myself! It seems rather contradictory from where I'm sitting!" Draco exclaimed, ready to pull his hair out with frustration.

"I can only help you ask the right questions, I cannot give you any answers," Señora responded calmly.

"Who _can_ give me answers, then?"

"Only you can," she responded simply.

Draco had had enough, his fist slammed down onto the table with a loud bang, causing Hermione to jump in her seat. Draco almost felt sorry for scaring her until he remembered why he was angry. To hell with bloody manors, this woman was crazy!

"Lo siento, I see I've upset you," Señora said, abruptly standing from the table, pulling the large tome into her arms.

"Wait!" Hermione shouted, glaring at Draco for his childish outburst. "What should we do?"

"You need to reach full redemption." The woman was moving swiftly towards the back room. "And soon."

"How soon?" Hermione asked, holding her breath.

Señora Pina turned towards them one last time, "Soon. A spirit cannot exist in between planes for very long. Maybe a month, but no more."

Hermione's heart sank. Draco pressed his face into his hands.

"May luck be on your side," the woman said eerily, the back door shutting softly behind her.

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><p><strong>End Note: To be continued within the next few days. Reviews make me write faster :) <strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: Fire and Powder**

**Chapter: 9**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, I'll just go cry about that now.**

**Note: HELLO. Sorry this took longer than I thought, I spontaneously decided to have a life this weekend. It was quite peculiar, in a moment of weakness I gave my number to this mild to moderately drunk guy on Friday night after hanging out with a friend at this sorta lame club. Anyway, that proved to be quite the distraction because I am ridiculously inexperienced when it comes to guys (I blame this mostly on having attended an all girls boarding school for high school). But enough about my pathetic social life! This chapter is twice the size of my regular ones, so hopefully that makes up for my absence! Enjoyyyy, thanks for the nice reviews, you guys make my life.**

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><p><em>"You are not wrong who deem<em>  
><em>That my days have been a dream;<em>  
><em>Yet if hope has flown away<em>  
><em>In a night, or in a day,<em>  
><em>In a vision, or in none,<em>  
><em>Is it therefore the less gone?<em>  
><em>All that we see or seem<em>  
><em>Is but a dream within a dream." <em>  
><em>— Edgar Allen Poe<em>

"Did you have to act like such a child?" Hermione questioned, turning her anger on him the second they were back out in the street.

"That woman was being difficult." Malfoy stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets.

"I don't care what she was being! She was the only one who has any answers about all of this!" Hermione said, exasperated.

Draco didn't bother responding. This was just great. Not only was he bonded with bloody Granger, but now he was destined to die as well. His head ached as he tried to wrap his mind around the concept.

"Well?" Hermione prompted.

"Hmmph?" he responded.

"Are you even listening to what I'm saying, Malfoy?!"

Draco didn't respond. Hermione fumed. "I asked what the plan was!"

Draco whirled on her. "You tell me! This whole situation is completely—" unfair. He was going to say this situation was completely unfair, but of course Granger already knew that. He sighed and shook his head, frustrated.

"I know you're angry, trust me, I am too," Hermione replied, walking beside him down the busy street. "But I've already died once, please don't make me do it again."

"What do you want me to do?" Draco answered sharply.

"I—I don't know, but we have to do something! We can't just give up! You've—" She saw the angry look on Draco's face and opted for a more neutral term, "We've been given a second chance, we can't give up already!"

"Save your Gryffindor motivational speeches for someone who cares," Draco bit out.

"No! You can't just give up! I'll die! Well, I'll die for real! And you'll die too!"

Draco didn't even flinch at her words, which alarmed Hermione. He clearly didn't care for her life, hell, he'd killed her to begin with, right? But didn't he value his own life? He couldn't just give up if it meant sudden death, could he?

"You can't just—"

"Sod off," Malfoy snarled, having enough.

He walked in silence for a few seconds, marveling at how Granger hadn't launched into another speech worthy of Godric Gryffindor himself.

"Granger—" he turned around, reading to say…what? He wasn't going to apologize, that's for sure. It didn't matter, she was already gone.

Draco sat at the dining room table the next morning, eying his parents warily. He had heard them come in the previous night, but had pretended to be asleep in case they came to check on him. They didn't.

His father looked the same as usual, sipping his tea and gazing over the local Wizard newspaper. Draco knew better than to ask how last night went with Sunik, he just prayed his father wasn't angry about the incident yesterday, and that he wouldn't keep him out of the loop.

"Draco," his mother greeted, "How did your visit go yesterday evening?"

Draco saw the concern on his mother's face and felt a pang of guilt keeping the truth from her, but he knew better than to tell her. She wouldn't understand. Well, maybe she would be more understanding than his father, but that was the problem. Lucius couldn't know, of that Draco was certain. He didn't know how his father would react, and he didn't need any reason to make him mad.

Draco took a casual sip of his tea, noting that it needed more sugar. "It was alright."

"What did they say?"

In his peripheral vision, Draco saw his father's eyes on him, and he instinctively occluded his mind to the intrusion he knew was coming. "She sensed a presence as well and promptly disposed of it."

His parents were no seers, Draco knew. They wouldn't know he was lying.

"Did they mention where you might have acquired such an intrusion?" Lucius asked.

"The woman said I could have picked it up anywhere, even here in Cadiz." Draco added a scoop of sugar to his tea, longing to add more but knowing his father would disapprove.

"Maybe you should relax for the rest of the day, dear," his mother offered, patting his hand reassuringly.

Draco nodded by way of answer, though he knew he wouldn't be doing much relaxing anytime soon.

They proceeded with the rest of breakfast in silence.

Draco sat in one of the library's many large chairs, wishing it wasn't so hot in this old house. It seemed to retain the Spanish heat, and Draco's wardrobe was incredibly limited at the moment. He only had his winter clothes with him which was most unfortunate at the moment. Giving up on propriety—it's not like anyone was in here to see him anyway—he unbuttoned his white button down shirt until it was half hanging open, revealing his sweaty bare skin to the air.

He pulled another book into his lap and tried not to think about whether he was wrong to have sent Granger away again. She'd been around for so long, he'd forgotten she could disappear at random intervals. He probably shouldn't have, considering they were both facing imminent doom, but she was just so damn annoying sometimes and he didn't have time for her damned Gryffindor courage.

Sighing, he opened the book. This one was called The History of Ancient Spells circa 50 bc – 1000 ad. The first three tomes he skimmed through had nothing, and he was starting to suspect this house's library wasn't expansive enough to help him with this.

Skimming through the index, he located the date he was looking for. 600 ad was not a busy year in Wizarding history, evidently. There were only a few spells listed under the heading. He had to read through ancient spells he'd never heard of before, but alas, there was Nodum de Animae.

He read through the short passage, finding it annoyingly similar to what he read last night. He stopped short in his reading when he reached the term full redemption. Taking a deep breath, he began reading the explanation.

Full redemption can be reached only through the willing collaboration of both souls in atoning the sins that lead to the killing of the second bonded soul. If full redemption isn't reached within one orbit of the moon, both souls will pass on.

Willing collaboration? How was he expected to ever collaborate with Granger when just a few days ago he was responsible for her death! How could anyone ever possibly survive this spell?! And one orbit of the moon? That's only 30 days! Draco counted in backwards in his head to estimate the amount of time that had passed already. It had almost been a week! A week! That's a good portion of the month gone and passed already! Draco felt panic taking over his senses. His blood rushed in his ears, his heart pounding, sweat sticking his open shirt to him even more. He couldn't deal with this.

"Granger!" he shouted into the empty library.

If they had to work together willingly then damn it she needed to be here instead of dawdling off in space or wherever she went when she disappeared!

"Granger!" he repeated when she didn't immediately appear in front of him. "I need you to help me! Come on!"

He fought the urge to get up and punch the wall and stomp his foot like an impertinent child. But damn it where was she?! He could make her disappear on command, why couldn't he make her appear on command too?

"Goddammit, Granger! Appear right now or Merlin help me I'll—" he never got to finish his thought because at that moment Granger appeared in front of him, looking confused and disoriented.

"Where were you?!" he shouted, glaring up at her from his chair.

She glared back. "Don't have a temper tantrum, Malfoy, it was you who sent me away in the first place!"

"Where do you go?" he asked, suddenly calmer now that she was finally here. He was starting to feel crazy screaming into space like that. Good thing he remembered to set up a silencing spell earlier or else his parents would have been very concerned, and that was the last thing he needed. "Where do you go when I…you know?"

"When you command me to leave?" Hermione asked, angry he couldn't even say it. "I actually don't know. It's dark, I think, I don't ever remember it much, actually…" she trailed off, searching her brain for more information but coming up blank. "It's like I was just with you in that street. You yelled at me to sod off, and…here I am."

Draco didn't know how to respond, so he didn't, choosing to fiddle with the book in his lap instead.

Hermione suddenly noticed the expanse of pale skin, glinting slightly with a light sheen of sweat, peeking from between an unbuttoned shirt. "Why are you shirtless?" she blurted out without thinking, trying not to look but failing.

Draco looked down at his chest, having forgotten that he unbuttoned his shirt. "I'm not shirtless, Granger, don't you have eyes? It's sweltering in here, don't be such a prude."

Hermione huffed. She was not a prude!

"If you're done critiquing my wardrobe, I have something actually productive to discuss. Look," He handed her the book and pointed to the passage he read. "It defines full redemption."

Hermione's eyes quickly scanned the text and she looked up when she was finished. "So we have to atone for my death? Together?"

"Together willingly," Draco clarified, the words tasting bitter in his mouth.

"And we only have a month…"

"Less, at this point," Draco reminded.

"How are we going to do it?"

Draco sighed. He had been asking the same question since last night. "I was hoping you would have some ideas."

Hermione mulled it over, settling herself in a nearby chair, settling the book in her lap. "Well," she began. "There's the obvious."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're going to have to be blunt, Granger. Contrary to popular belief, I can't read your mind." Actually he could, if she was looking at him. Or did that not work on dead people?

"You could switch from the dark, stop being a death eater, fight for the light," she said this so casually, as if discussing choosing to wear white rather than black, not defying debatably the most powerful Wizard in the world.

"One does not simply 'stop being a death eater,' as you so eloquently put it." He rolled up his sleeve, showing her the mark for emphasis. "See this? He marked me for life. My family can leave the country, cross the entire continent, but we can't hide from him forever."

"Is that what you're doing?" Hermione asked suddenly, seeing an opportunity to finally get the whole story. "Your family escaped?"

Draco scoffed. "Not willingly, I assure you." He figured it was past the point of trying to keep it from her. She's been brought into the situation whether he liked it or not. Plus, it's not as if she was able to tell anyone, nobody could even see her. Well, at least for the most part.

"After I…" he hesitated.

"After you killed me?" she said directly. He wondered how she could speak of it so plainly when he couldn't even bring himself to think of it.

"Yes, after, Potter and Weasley escaped the manor," Draco ignored Hermione's gasp, "And we bloody well couldn't stick around after that."

"They escaped?" Hermione asked, unable to contain the flood of relief. They were alive. Her friends were alive!

"They always do, don't they?"

Hermione smiled for the first time in what felt like eternity. Draco ignored her, fighting the pang of something in his chest. Not guilt. Definitely not guilt.

The rest of the day was spent pouring over books, scouring the pages for clues. The chairs grew too constrained, so they moved to the floor, spreading books like maps along the floor, connecting what few dots they could find.

They didn't gather much. They learned that the average amount of time they had to reach full redemption was between 27 to 40 days. They also uncovered that the spell was very popular in the Middle Ages, but because it often ended in both parties demise, it had since lost its appeal.

"Dumbledore must have been planning this spell for a while," Hermione concluded.

"Does that old coot plan anything?" Draco asked facetiously while adding another book to the steadily growing pile at his side.

Hermione stopped reading to glare over at Draco who was sitting on the rug with his back against a chair across from her. Books rested like a fortress between them. "Dumbledore was the greatest Wizard of our time! I'd be surprised if there was anything he didn't plan."

"I can think of one thing," Draco muttered sullenly, reflecting on their own situation. Dumbledore may have been madly brilliant (emphasis on the madly) but there was no way even he could have predicted his own spell would backfire on him like this. The old man was dead in his grave, while Granger sat here with him, facing imminent doom.

"Yes, well…" Hermione trailed off, unable to dispute his logic on that one. She couldn't picture Dumbledore not knowing something. She couldn't picture him being wrong. It was like expecting the sun to shine at night; it didn't happen. Dumbledore was never wrong. Dumbledore was—"Wait."

Draco watched Hermione's brown eyes filled with understanding, a gasp escaping her lips. "What?"

She stared at him, gaping. "He knew!"

"Knew what, Granger?"

"Dumbledore! He knew!" Hermione was growing frantic, fingers rapidly searching for something in one of her earlier texts.

"Yes, Granger, so you said. I'm going to need you to speak English," Draco replied with more than a little annoyance in his voice.

Hermione found what it was she was looking for, thrusting the book into Draco's lap, moving closer to point out a particular line. "Read!"

Draco read aloud: "_In order for Nodum de Animae to be invoked, the caster must be a third party."_

Hermione stared at him, waiting for the penny to drop.

"Maybe he didn't know," Draco stated, not even believing it as he said it. The old Potter-loving, Gryffindor coot was much too cunning. Much too smart. Much to Slytherin. He knew.

Draco let out a loud breath, raking a hand through his hair. "What does this mean?"

Hermione sat back against the chair, their arms not quite touching. "He knew you weren't going to kill him."

"How?" Draco angrily asked the air in front of him. "How could he have known that if I didn't even know myself?! Are you going to tell me he's a seer too?!"

Hermione just shook her head, confused. Something wasn't matching up. "What happened that night on the astronomy tower?"

"Surely Potter told you all about it by now." Draco responded, scathingly. He didn't want to talk about it. He had been a coward. He had disappointed the Dark Lord. He had disappointed his father. That night on the tower was by far one of the worst nights of his life. There was only one night that ranked worse in his memory.

"I know his side, yes, but I think hearing it from both perspectives might be…enlightening," Hermione explained, not actually expecting Malfoy to share anything with her.

Draco contemplated her words. He didn't want to talk about it. But he also didn't want to die, not like this. Not because of some bloody ridiculous spell the dead headmaster forced on him. He sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, hoping it would help slow his rapid heartbeat. It didn't.

As much as he hated to admit it, he and Granger were in this bloody mess together, for better or worse.

"It…" Draco began, struggling to find the words. "It was planned. All year. I was to kill the headmaster to prove my allegiance to the Dark Lord…"

Hermione waited for him to continue, surprised he was talking at all.

"That night…on the astronomy tower…I let in a few Death Eaters through the room of requirement, but at first it was just Dumbledore and I on the astronomy tower. I suppose Potter was there somewhere too—he always is, isn't he?—but that didn't matter. I disarmed Dumbledore, and that was it. I couldn't—" deep breath "I couldn't do it. Bellatrix kept saying I needed to. That if I didn't—" deeper breath "He would kill me, and my family. But I couldn't. Severus took over at that point, and you know the rest I'm sure," Draco rushed out, eager to end the conversation.

Hermione absorbed everything Draco told her. It matched up with Harry's version of events, only, for some reason, hearing Draco's version felt a little different. It was hard to think of Draco being remotely capable of remorse. To think of him as something other than a killer. And Bellatrix, she goaded him on that night just as much as she had in Malfoy Manor. Perhaps there was more to the Slytherin boy next to her than she originally thought.

"Um, thank you for sharing," Hermione said awkwardly, noting Draco's tense form beside her.

He nodded, staring at a book in his lap.

"So how well do you know Severus Snape?" she asked.

That got Draco's attention. "He's a very old family friend."

Hermione nodded. "And he's a death eater?"

"Yes," Draco responded. "Well…" he pondered. "There was a time when I wasn't entirely sure which side Severus was really on. He and my father go way back, it was my father who got Severus involved in the Dark Lord's inner circle to begin with. But after the first war…when I was younger…he didn't seem as dedicated as the other Death Eaters. And he at least appeared loyal to Dumbledore, but of course that was all an act."

Hermione nodded again, unsure what to make of everything. She couldn't help but think that Snape must play _some_ role in this, she just didn't know what quite yet.

"He made the unbreakable vow," Draco continued, thinking of how the potions master had cornered him in the corridor the night of Slughorn's party.

Hermione nodded again and this time it caught Draco's attention. "You knew?"

"Um—"

"Tell me, is sticking your nose in everyone else's business a requirement of all Gryffindors?"

Hermione crossed her arms defensively across her chest. "I could ask the same thing about Slytherin!"

A scathing reply tore at Draco's throat, but he kept his mouth firmly shut. They needed to work together in this. Even if it killed them. Because if they didn't, then it would.

A firm knock at the door caused the pair to jump. "Shite," Draco hissed, pushing the books into a semblance of an organized pile. Hermione helped him, hoping Draco had been bright enough to use a silencing charm. As if reading her mind, the blonde said, "I'm not daft, I cast _silencio_ before you even arrived."

"Draco?" Lucius Malfoys voice spoke through dark wooden door. There was another knock. "Why is this door warded?"

Fuck.

Draco took a second to make sure his face was impassive before spelling the door open and the wards down with a wave of his wand. Lucius gazed around the room suspiciously. He noted his son sitting rigidly in a chair, a tome in his lap with a stack of books resting in a mess at his feet.

"What's going on here?"

Draco kept his face calm, "Just catching up on schoolwork." Draco lifted the cover to show his father the title. It was one of the less suspicious titles: _Ancient and Medieval Charms_.

Lucius narrowed his eyes. He wasn't fooled. His son was up to something. "Then why did you feel compelled to ward the door?"

Draco feigned innocence. "Just practicing, Father."

His father's eyes narrowed further, if that were even possible.

Hermione stood watching from the other side of the room, unsure of how to help. "He doesn't believe you!"

Draco's eyes slid to hers for a brief second, his eyebrows lifting a fraction of an inch as if to say _obviously._

"Make something up!" Hermione offered.

"I was being loud," Draco began. It wasn't a lie. "And I didn't want to disturb you."

"Hmm," Lucius considered what his son was saying, not buying it. But he was on a tight schedule and didn't have time for these games. He locked eyes with Draco, silently intruding the young man's thoughts only to find his occlumency shields firmly push him away. Interesting.

"Well, be that as it may," Lucius dismissed, regaining his posture. "Your mother and I will be consulting with Sunik again this evening, I trust you can entertain yourself in the meantime?"

Draco nodded. "Of course."

"Do not stray far," his father warned. "And no more wards in this house without my explicit consent."

Draco nodded, knowing better than to argue.

The door shut behind Lucius with a soft thud. Hermione opened her mouth to speak and Draco immediately held up a hand to shush her.

Pulling out a piece of parchment from a journal on the floor, he grabbed a quill from the side table and began writing. When finished, he held up the text for her to read. _He's listening._ Hermione nodded though she didn't understand. Why would Lucius listen in on his own son?

They waited in silence for a few more minutes, listening to the_ click click_ of the grandfather clock. Finally, there was the definite sound of a large door shutting. Draco got up, setting the book to the side, and peered out the window to be sure it wasn't a ruse. He watched as his parents walked all the way down the street and faded from sight.

"They're gone," he told her.

Hermione sighed in relief. "Why did you father question you?" Hermione couldn't help but ask.

"For the same reason he tried to _legilimize_ me, he thinks I'm up to something," Draco answered, shutting the heavy curtains.

Hermione gasped. "Your father tried to _read your mind_?"

"Ironic, considering he's the one who taught me occlumency in the first place." Draco resettled himself in the chair, propping his feet up on an ottoman.

Hermione was still gaping at him. "But he's your father! He should trust you!"

Draco scoffed at her. "You're incredibly dimwitted and naïve if you think that paternity automatically equates to affection and trust."

Hermione let the weight of those words sink in, not fully comprehending. How could anyone's guardians not trust them? Her mind automatically went to Harry, whom she knew never got along with his relatives. But it couldn't be that bad with the Malfoys, could it? "I thought all pureblood families were close?"

"If by close you mean exclusive and superior, then yes. We don't like to mix with other…" Hermione narrowed her eyes threateningly at him and he chose his words carefully "...non-purebloods. It taints the blood," Hermione huffed in irritation but he continued anyway. "But we are not 'close' in the way you are undoubtedly thinking."

Hermione thought of her own relationship with her parents. They never understood magic, but they never let that get in the way of their love for her. Thinking of her parents made her heart clench painfully, remembering she _obliviated_ herself from their memories. They didn't remember her.

_It's for the best_, she assured herself, setting her jaw.

Draco decided this would be a good time to change the steer the subject away from his personal life and back to something productive. "We've done our research," he gestured to the books. "Now what?"

Hermione met his eyes, thoughts and scenarios already tumbling through her mind at a rapid place. "Now we plan."

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><p><strong>End Notes:<strong> **Reviews make me write faster! **


	10. Chapter 10

**Title: Fire and Powder**

**Chapter: 10**

**Disclaimer: If I owned HP I wouldn't be sitting in my dorm right now writing this. **

**Authors note: SORRY this took so long, I spontaneously got a life. Really, I have no idea where it came from, but don't worry I think it's mostly over now, haha. I've been to stir crazy in my dorm room these past few weeks so I've been hanging out in the student center and walking around town and hanging with friends and whatnot. Not writing this has been killing me though, so I am hopefully gonna get back into it. I wanted this chapter to be longer, but I wanted to post something more, alas here you are. Big thanks to Mallory for betaing the first half of this, the remaining mistakes are entirely mine. **

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><p><em>"Instead, I try to adjust to the dawn, letting the tears fall where they may, because it is morning; it is morning and there is so much to see." <em>  
><em>- Libba Bray (The Sweet Far Thing)<em>

Draco poured himself a cup of tea, letting it cool before he took a sip.

"Would you like some?" Draco offered, nodding at the kettle.

They were seated in the kitchen, the sun having set hours ago. His parents still weren't back and he doubted they would be any time soon. They had finally given up their reading in favor of discussing possible plans over the small wooden table rather than the library floor.

"Do you think I can?" Hermione asked.

Draco raised his eyebrows. "You tell me."

"I suppose I can try."

Draco summoned another tea cup and poured a cup of the steaming liquid. He wished they could have house elves, but his father insisted they could have been corrupted by the Dark Lord and they couldn't take the chance. Draco was not used to doing things for himself, but luckily this was a magical kettle which was basically automatic.

Hermione gripped the handle of the delicate teacup, unsure. She hadn't had any…human urges…since being dead. She hasn't been thirsty, or hungry, or had any other bodily cravings. Would the tea go straight through her? She was able to hold onto objects well enough, but people still walked through her as though she were empty air.

"Don't just stare at it," Draco mocked, taking another sip.

Hermione glared at him and promptly brought the cup to her lips, pressing the glass against her lips. Warmth. Peppermint.

"So?" Draco prompted as she set the cup down.

"Needs sugar," Hermione replied, grinning despite herself.

Draco resisted the urge to smile back. "Well, I'm not a house elf so you're going to have to get it yourself."

Hermione frowned at the mention of house elves, thinking of her efforts with SPEW. But now wasn't the time to discuss politics on magical creatures with Malfoy. They had bigger rivers to cross.

"I think we need to leave," Hermione abruptly stated, staring into her tea.

"What are you talking about?" Draco scowled.

"I think we need to leave…"

"Damn it Granger, do you have to repeat everything? Just get on with it!" Draco snapped, hand clenching into a fist against the wooden tabletop.

Hermione narrowed her eyes angrily. "If you would have let me finish! I think we need to leave and go find Harry and Ron."

Draco fought the desire to slam his head down onto the table. Hard. "No. I'm not going to chase down Potter and Weasley and beg for forgiveness. You're bloody mad!"

Hermione huffed, taking another sip of tea, letting the warmth calm her before speaking. "How else do you expect us to reach full redemption? We need to do something! You killed me fighting for the dark, now you need to fight for the light!"

Draco angrily ran a hand through his hair, overwhelmed. "We are not going to find your friends, Granger."

"Do you have a better plan?" Hermione questioned, glaring.

"I don't know. But we haven't considered all our options yet!"

"Oh yes, because we have so much time to sit around pondering what ifs for every single scenario, really Malfoy! We are running out of time as it is, we need to act!" Hermione was growing frantic. She felt like a clock was constantly ticking in her ear, time passing furiously around her, propelling her towards death for a second time.

"Maybe it isn't worth it," Draco mumbled into his hands, struggling to retain his composure.

Hermione gaped at him. "Is that what this is about? You don't think it's _worth_ it? You'd rather _die_? I've died once, Malfoy, thanks to you, and frankly I am not doing it again!"

"Mm rry"

"What did you say?" Hermione prompted. Frustrated, she reached across the small table, prying Draco's hands from his face. She was surprised to find his eye were red, pale skin blotchy, as though he were struggling not to cry.

"I said I'm sorry," Draco repeated, his eyes harsh.

Hermione absorbed the words slowly, hearing them but not believing Malfoy capable of saying such a thing. And to her, of all people.

"I know it doesn't make it better," he continued. "But I really didn't want to do it."

Hermione looked away, unsure. She suddenly became aware of Draco's hand still in hers from when she pulled it away from his face. She abruptly let go, settling her hands safely in her lap.

"But what are we going to do?" Hermione asked, her anger gone.

Draco took in a deep breath. "I think you're right that we need to leave. But I don't necessarily think running off to your Gryffindor entourage is the solution."

"It is," Hermione assured him. "They're looking for—" she immediately caught herself.

"Looking for what?" Draco asked, confused at what had Hermione so choked up.

"They…I can't tell you."

"Damn it, Granger!" Draco's anger sparked back to life. "How do you expect us to work together if you can't even explain why you expect me to just leave my family and run all the way back to England—where the Dark Lord has me on the top of his kill list—and join your lunatic friends?"

Hermione looked at her hands, contemplating. They did need to work together. But she couldn't just tell Draco about the horcruxes! He could run to his father! Or the Dark Lord! Sure, he seemed to have turned away from the Dark, but she didn't know for certain and she really couldn't take any chances.

"I really can't tell you, at least not yet. You'll just have to trust me, this is the only way to defeat…" she struggled to say the words "the Dark Lord."

Draco reined in his anger. Now wasn't the time to explode. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

"Well," Hermione began, drawing a map in her mind. "We need to leave Spain, to begin with, and head back to England."

"And how do you expect us to find Potter? You don't expect him to just be sitting around waiting for you to come back from the grave, do you?" Draco bit out, venom lacing his voice.

Hermione grew silent, sadness settling over her like a heavy blanket. Her friends thought she was dead. By all accounts she was dead. They would be devastated, she knew this, but they would keep moving. Keep fighting. They still had horcruxes to find, which could be anywhere really. Harry and Ron could be anywhere. Panic bubbled in her throat causing her to choke on air. How would she ever find them again?

"You don't know where they are," Draco stated.

Hermione just shook her head.

"Then how do you expect us to find them?" Draco asked, his voice softening against his will.

"I…I don't know. But we can't stay here." Hermione wiped her eyes, destroying all evidence of moisture. Crying wouldn't solve anything.

"I can't leave my family," Draco stated.

"You don't have a choice," Hermione bit back.

"They're in danger…the Dark Lord is after us, I can't just leave them!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, unrelenting. "You can't just stay here! You'll die! That won't do anyone any good now will it?"

Draco crossed his arms defensively, leaning back in his chair, not bothering to respond.

"It won't and you know it. If you want to help them, we need to leave. Like I said, I don't know where Harry and Ron are precisely—" Draco scoffed but Hermione ignored him "—but I do have a few ideas as to where they could be, and honestly anywhere is more productive than here!"

"My family didn't just come to Spain for the weather!" Draco shouted. "My father's contact is very knowledgeable and can be of service—"

Hermione abruptly interrupted him, her irritation flaring. "Oh really? That incredibly 'knowledgeable' man who basically threw you out of his store because evil demons were haunting you? Yes, good plan, expect him to save you!"

Draco really wanted to hit something. Repeatedly. Again, he fought to contain his anger. To think that he _apologized_ to Granger just a few minutes ago, what was he thinking?! He was bloody mad! No, actually, _she_ was bloody mad!

"Excuse me, Granger, but Sunik is a very accomplished wizard who specializes in a certain breed of dark curses which personally effects my family!" he roughly thrust his arm forward, furiously yanking back the fabric covering his forearm to display the Dark Mark. "Pardon me for wanting to free myself from fucking eternal damnation!"

Hermione barely glanced at the mark, completely unaffected. "You keep forgetting that failing to reach full redemption means eternal damnation!"

Draco finally gave in the urge to slam his fist against the table, relishing in the clatter of the china and the way Hermione jumped back in her seat. "Damned if I stay, damned if I don't."

"Don't be such a pessimist."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Realist."

"We really need to go back to England," Hermione repeated. "As soon as possible."

"If you say that one more time I swear…" Draco trailed off.

"Swear what? You'll kill me?" Hermione asked, sarcasm dripping from each word. "Because that worked so well last time."

"Go to hell," Draco replied, letting his head fall to the table with a soft thud. Bloody mad.

"I'm already there."

Draco didn't even bother to pick his head up as he said, "We'll go."

Hermione felt accomplished, as though she had just won some huge battle. Of course, the real battle hadn't even begun yet, but she'd take whatever victories she could get when Malfoy was involved.

"Not right this second, you imbecile!" Draco exclaimed as Hermione stood up from the table.

"We don't have any time to waste, Malfoy!"

"I realize that, thank you, but because I am not dead, unlike yourself, I actually need to sleep. We'll leave tomorrow."

Hermione decided not to press the matter further. That was a sensible argument, after all.

At just that moment there was a clamoring from outside. A loud bang, followed by the sound of muffled laughter and the heavy front door being pushed open.

"Shit," Draco cursed, taking out his wand to get rid of the tea and cups.

Hermione peaked around the kitchen door, seeing a very drunk looking Lucius Malfoy leaning on the Indian man from the previous night. Narcissa Malfoy hovered behind them, sober and apprehensive.

"Draco!" Lucius abruptly shouted, his arm reaching forward into the air in front of him.

"Yes, father?" Draco responded, composing himself and appearing in the doorway next to Hermione.

Lucius squinted his eyes, as though seeing his son in front of him was a struggle even though he was only a few feet away. "There's nothing to be done, boy! We have exhausted all options!"

Draco raised his eyebrows at his father's drunk ramblings, looking towards Sunik for answers.

The Indian man appeared to have participated in the nightly drinking as well, but he was far less inebriated. "Not all our options, Lucius, just…most."

"I'm sorry, I'm confused," Draco asked, fighting to control his frustration.

Lucius released a dark chuckle and would have fallen over if not for the man he was leaning on. "The mark, boy," Lucius jerked back the fabric on his arm, revealing the mark. "There's nothing to be done. We are…" he struggled to think of the word, his mind a fuzzy mess. "Doomed! The Dark Lord will be upon us soon." And with that Lucius Malfoy collapsed onto the loveseat, giving in to the drunken blackness.

Narcissa eyed her husband on the couch before turning sympathetically towards her son. "Don't hold this against him, please…I think he just feels responsible."

Draco nodded despite the anger building inside him.

"This has been a very wearing night, perhaps it is time I leave you all. I am sorry I cannot be of more service to your family, please contact me if you have any trouble with my contact," the Indian man said, bowing slightly and heading towards the door.

"Thank you for your assistance, we will indeed be in touch," Narcissa responded, moving to open the door for Sunik.

The night air was chilly as it seeped through the doorway. The man paused, one foot through the entryway, the other still firmly within the home. "Wait," he spun heavily on his heel, dark eyes sweeping the foyer and coming to rest on Hermione who instinctively stepped back towards Draco.

"Yes?" Narcissa prompted, confusing marring her features. "Is there a problem?"

The man narrowed his eyes as though he could see the curly haired girl now standing with her arm pressed against Draco's.

"A presence still lingers with your son," Sunik informed her.

Narcissa looked at her son, not seeing anything but him standing in the kitchen doorway with an odd expression on his face. "Pardon?"

"A presence," the man repeated. "I suggest he take care of it, clearly he did not follow my previous advice and seek assistance, for now I sense the demon is distinctly stronger."

Draco took a step forward, inadvertently placing himself between the man and Granger. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said firmly, feigning innocence.

"Draco," Narcissa asked. "I thought you told me you took care of this?"

Draco kept his face stern. "I did, mother."

"Not well enough, evidently. I shall leave you now, but I highly suggest you take care of this problem soon." The man nodded once more, before heading out the doorway into the night air.

Narcissa quickly shut the door behind him, taking a moment to reset the wards guarding the house. When she was through she turned back to her son. "What is the meaning of this, Draco?"

Draco held his ground. "I didn't lie to you, mother, I took care of it."

"Then why is there still a problem?"

Draco noticed Hermione still standing rigidly at his side.

"There is no problem," Draco stated, fingers rubbing slightly against Hermione's wrist, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"I certainly hope not," Narcissa said, deciding to let it go for the night. "Go to bed, Draco, we are leaving tomorrow when your father is…" she looked at her husband snoring lightly on the loveseat, "less indisposed."

"Leaving?" Draco questioned, his fingers ceasing their stroking.

"Yes, Sunik was kind enough to provide us with another safehouse. We will be leaving the continent." Narcissa explained.

"To where?" Draco couldn't believe his ears. They couldn't just run and hide forever!

"We will know for certain tomorrow, we have an unlisted portkey scheduled for the afternoon."

Draco quickly composed himself, sliding the mask back into place. He knew what he needed to do, there was no doubt about it now. "Yes, mother," he nodded. "I'm going to bed now, goodnight."

"Goodnight, Draco," Narcissa said, squeezing his shoulder affectionately as she passed into the kitchen to brew herself a cup of tea before bed.

Draco walked quickly back into his bedroom, not bothering to set a silencing ward as he moved to retrieve a medium sized backpack from under his bed.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, having followed him into the room. She watched confused as he rummaged through drawers, shoving random clothing and items into the backpack.

"I'm packing," he said, reaching deep within a bottom drawer to retrieve a stash of galleons. "Obviously."

"You can't seriously think it's a good idea to follow that idiot's advice and leave tomorrow with your family to God only knows where!" Hermione shouted, shocked.

"Of course not, Granger, don't be daft. That man is clearly mentally impaired! The nerve of him to suggest that _I_ have a problem! We're leaving. Not with my parents. Just you and I…I don't know where we'll go, I suppose back to England…and I don't know what we'll do, but for once I agree with you, we can't stay here."

Hermione was shocked by his sudden compliance. "When are we leaving? Still tomorrow?"

Draco shook his head, zipping up the backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. "No. We're leaving now."

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><p><strong>End Note: Sorry for the mild cliffhanger. I needed something to keep you waiting for my next update, lest you give up with me all together! I make no promises this time, but the next update should be up sometime next week. As always, reviews make me write faster. Be well.<strong>


	11. Chapter 11

**Title: Fire and Powder**

**Chapter: 11**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Cue endless weeping.**

**Notes: Sorry this took so long, I was fighting a vicious bout of writers block. I'm currently looking for more beta's if anyone is interested? You'll get to read chapters as soon as I'm done, which could be an incentive if anyone was particularly distraught over how long it takes me to update. There's a lot of sexual tension in this chapter, I enjoyed writing it hopefully you enjoy reading it. My social life has plummeted recently, may it rest in peace.**

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><p>"<em>What if evil doesn't really exist? What if evil is something dreamed up by man, and there is nothing to struggle against except out own limitations? The constant battle between our will, our desires, and our choices?"<em>

_Libba Bray (Rebel Angels)_

Hermione leaned her head against the window of the train, gasping as she felt the cold glass about her skin. Tentatively raising a hand, she skimmed a finger against the glass, relishing in the chill that spread through her body.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her but kept his mouth shut. They weren't alone in this compartment, the train was surprisingly crowded for this late in the evening. They were on their way from Spain to France, heading back to England. Muggle transportation was their only option as it was too far to apperate and a portkey was too conspicuous.

"I can feel the cold," Hermione informed him, eyeing the young woman across from them to make sure she didn't notice anything. The woman continued reading her book, not looking up once at Hermione's voice.

Draco nodded at her in acknowledgement before looking past her and out the window. Leaving his parents was harder than he thought it would be. He felt like he was betraying them by abandoning them in Spain. He knew he was being ridiculous, it wasn't as if he was their protector or anything, but still. Blood is thicker than water, and betrayal was not taken lightly in the Malfoy family. He left a note behind in his room. Nothing explicit, just a promise that he knew what he was doing and not to worry. His worst fear was that they would follow him, hunt him down until they found him and forced him to go with them to whatever safe house they discovered next. That would be the death of them all.

Hermione watched the Spanish landscape hastily escape out the window, her eyelids growing oddly heavy. A weight strikingly similar to sleepiness muddled her thoughts until she couldn't help but close her eyes, the countryside fading from her consciousness.

Draco watched as Granger fell asleep against the window, wondering how she could ever find such a position comfortable. It was a good sign she could feel the cold. They must be moving in the right direction if she was regaining human sensations again. He briefly wondered how horrific it would be if she suddenly became visible to everyone randomly in public. Ah well, no use pondering over such trivialities now. They had more pressing concerns.

A rustling from across the compartment drew Draco's attention away from the Gryffindor girl sitting next to him. The woman across from them, who had sat down in their compartment at the last stop, was rummaging loudly through her bag. She looked up at Draco's gaze, giving a small grin, blue eyes sparkling. Securing her book in her bag, the woman brushed a lock of straight blonde hair behind one ear, her blue eyes sparkling with something Draco couldn't quite place. The Slytherin admired the pink blush on the young woman's pale cheeks, watching as she reclined her head back against the headrest as though preparing to go to sleep. She stretched a thin leg across the small compartment towards Draco. Her purple dress slid up her thigh with the movement, exposing smooth, snowy flesh. They were entirely alone in the small compartment, save Hermione, whom this woman didn't realize was sleeping a mere inches from Draco.

The woman slipped her foot out of her sandal, her leg lifting towards Draco's. Cold toes pressed against his calf stroking sensually higher and higher. Draco met the woman's gaze, recognizing the heat in her eyes. He automatically moved his trouser clad leg away from the seat, allowing the woman more room for her exploration towards the back of his knee.

A sigh from next to him jolted him out of his concentration which had been solely on the beautiful woman in front of him. His eyes snapped to Hermione, who had shifted in her sleep and turned instinctively towards him, searching for a more comfortable position. Her head nestled sleepily into his shoulder, another sigh escaping her lips. Draco let out a shaky breath and tried to regain his misplaced composure. He pulled his leg back against the seat and the blonde woman's foot dropped to the floor with a thud.

"Sorry," he muttered, unable to watch as the woman toed her sandals back on, huffing silently to herself. Draco caught a muffled jumble of French expletives.

Hermione's hand wrapped around Draco's arm in her sleep, grabbing tightly as though she thought he was suddenly going to slip away.

The woman, embarrassed, not to mention frustrated, roughly grabbed her bag and stood, leaving them alone in the compartment leaving only the faint aroma of floral perfume.

Draco was confused. The blonde woman was gorgeous, not to mention completely willing. Those were two of his favorite things. Why didn't he let her continue her ministrations? Surely they would have progressed nicely.

Hermione's grip tightened, her grasp becoming his anchor to reality. He fought the ridiculous urge to smell her hair. He wouldn't. Definitely not. Nor would he run his fingers through it, just to feel the texture. No.

She shifted even closer somehow, nuzzled closer, lips pressing lightly against his neck. Her breath was fire against his skin, a tantalizing inferno. He tilted his head slightly, brown hair tickling his face. Inhale.

Hermione woke up confused. Something warm was pressed against her mouth. She jerked away surprised when she realized it was Draco she was sleeping on. Thankfully she didn't wake him up with her sudden movements. That would have been horrifying. How embarrassing! Why didn't he wake her up or push her away?

Taking a deep breath, she took a moment to compose herself. Sleep was still weighing heavily on her thoughts but she fought valiantly to wake up her mind.

It was too dark outside the train now, not even the moon could shed light on the country landscape. She noticed with some confusion that the pretty blonde woman from before seems to have left the compartment, leaving Draco and her alone.

A voice announced their station over the intercom. Hermione gently shook Draco awake, unable to meet his gray eyes after having found herself sleeping on him just a few minutes ago. How horrifying! She would certainly die of embarrassment.

"Are we there?" Draco asked groggily, rubbing his neck to relieve the strained muscles.

Hermione nodded, reaching for his backpack and handing it to him as people began to crowd into the hallway on their way to the exit.

The sky was black when they stepped out of the French train station. The large clock on the street informed them that it was just after five am.

"The ferry leaves at seven, so we can head there now," Draco told her, pulling his coat tighter around his body in the chilly night air. Old snow was piled along the sidewalk, crunching wetly with each step.

Hermione shivered, fingering her jumper and wishing she still had her bag with all her winter clothes. It was freezing.

"You need a coat," Draco commented.

"Very astute, thank you," Hermione shot back, crossing her arms against her chest, pulling her limbs close for warmth.

Draco struggled. He should give her his coat…it was the courteous, gentleman thing to do. His father would scold him if he ever found out that a young lady was cold in his company and he didn't offer her his coat. But his father also probably didn't think this rule applied to mudbloods. But they needed to work together. Or they would die.

With that logic, Draco shrugged out of his coat, placing it over Grangers shoulders before she had the chance to react.

The instant warmth the coat provided was nothing compared to the shock Hermione felt at having Draco Malfoy—Death Eater and childhood bully—give her his coat. Her mouth dropped open, astounded.

"Don't have an aneurism, Granger." Draco said, rummaging through his backpack for another jumper which he quickly pulled over his shirt. "It's just a coat."

"I didn't say anything," Hermione responded, slipping her arms through the sleeves of the too-large coat. It was incredibly warm and soft, much more luxurious than anything her family could ever afford.

An older couple exited from a side building, silencing them. It was too easy to forget that Hermione was invisible to most everyone. They needed to be careful.

Draco increased his pace as they neared the ferry station, while Hermione lagged behind, letting the couple pass. Hermione allowed herself to become distracted with the way Draco's blonde hair caught the dim street lights, yellow contrasting against the black night. She drank in his profile. He walked with a confidence garnered from a lifetime of fancy dinner parties and exclusive pureblood society. Draco looked over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at her when he noticed how much she had slowed down. She quickly picked up her pace, trying not to focus on the gleam in his grey eyes, or the sharp angles of his face, or the slight part of his lips, hot breath escaping into the night air.

The ferry was crowded for such an early hour in the morning. Commuters, most likely, on their way to work. Was it a weekday? Draco didn't know anymore. There was no need for calendars when every day was hell. War rages on, weekend or holiday.

There were very few seats left when Draco and Hermione boarded the small ship. They ended up in the back, near the engine, crammed into a small bench that certainly wasn't made for two people. Maybe one person and a small child, but definitely not two teenagers.

Their legs were toughing and Hermione studiously ignored the warmth of Draco's thigh pressed against hers on the too-small bench. This trip would only take an hour, she could make it without spontaneously combusting. Looking out the window, she watched the wind create waves in the sea as France receded into the early morning fog. The sun was rising out the window, blinding against the dim ferry. Around them, people sat engrossed in their morning rituals. Newspapers crinkles as pages were turned, throats were cleared, coffee sipped.

Draco watched Hermione shield her eyes against the appearing sun, the rays catching in her curls. He had another ridiculous urge to reach out and touch one, to feel the texture against his fingertips, and brush the brown locks behind her ear. He had lost it. Goodbye sanity, it was nice knowing you.

"We should sleep," Draco suggested, his voice low to keep the other passengers from overhearing him.

Hermione nodded, agreeing. They had slept on the train, but that was a few hours ago and really they didn't know when they'd be able to sleep again. He was right. She yawned and leaned her head against the window, thankful at least that they had a bench next to the window. She closed her eyes, willing sleep to overtake her. Minutes past. Five. Ten. Twenty. Sleep did not come.

Opening her eyes, she noticed that Draco also wasn't sleeping. His eyes were staring directly in front of him, looking but not seeing.

"Not tired?" she asked, resisting the urge to yawn again.

Draco snapped back to reality and shook his head slightly at her, still trying not to say anything lest they be overheard.

Hermione scanned the passengers near them. Some had fallen asleep, newspapers and magazines forgotten in their laps. Others typed away on their cell phones, somehow having phone service so far from land. Peculiar. Maybe they were closer than she thought? True enough, looking out the window Hermione saw land approaching. They still probably had about twenty minutes, but she had dozed off for longer than she thought.

"Look," Draco whispered, his voice suddenly unnaturally strained.

"What?" Hermione asked, alert.

Draco didn't answer, she followed his line of sight to find him staring at a tall man in a large black coat. The man was sitting in one of the single person seats in the middle of the aisle, his back facing them. Hermione didn't know why Draco found him suddenly interesting. She looked at the Slytherin next to her, confused.

Draco didn't answer her, instead he narrowed his eyes and held out his arm, rubbing the fingers of his other hand along his forearm. Oh. Death eater. Hermione's eyes snapped back up to the man, watching as he read through what appeared to be a muggle newspaper. But it wasn't. As she stared at it longer she realized the pictures were moving. Certainly not muggle. That was the Daily Prophet. It was probably charmed so only other wizards could see what it really was. The man flipped the page and appeared to be engrossed in what he was reading.

The ferry drifted closer to shore. The sun was soundly in the sky now, light shining brightly though the windows announcing that morning had fully arrived. The people began shuffling about, stuffing newspapers into briefcases, ending their phone conversations with hurried goodbyes. The man looked up as the intercom announced that it was now safe to depart the ferry. He stood, straightening his black slacks with his palms, one hand still clutching the Daily Prophet.

Draco grabbed Hermione's arm, pulling her out of the bench and the opposite direction from the exit.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked as the other passengers filed the opposite direction, in a hurry to exit the vessel.

Draco pulled her closer, his lips near her ear. "He'll recognize me. He knows my father. He knows me."

Hermione's eyes widened at his words, realizing the precarious situation they were presented with. Draco stepped into one of the back aisles, allowing the remaining passengers to continue past him. Hermione scanned the front of the ship for the Death Eater but couldn't find him. He must have left already.

"I think he's gone," Hermione commented.

Draco ignored her. Idiotic Gryffindor. Sure, he _appeared_ to be gone, but appearances meant nothing! They would have to wait until they knew for certain he was gone. They still had to go through immigration and Draco wasn't particularly looking forward to standing behind one of his father's old…friends in the line. The muggles around them would be completely insignificant when it came to deterring a Death Eater.

Lucas Chandler. That was the Death Eater on the ferry with them. Draco remembered him from meetings and overheard conversations between his father and other Dark Lord followers. He wasn't particularly high up in the Dark Lords favor, but if anything that gave the man more motivation to turn him over. The Chandlers were a pureblood line that hadn't been related to the Malfoys in a few generations, and it was nowhere near as influential, but they still were well respected.

He waited until the last person had exited the ferry before grabbing Hermione's arm and tugging her toward the exit.

"Maybe I should go first in order to check he isn't there? Because he can't see me," Hermione suggested.

Draco nodded and waited as Hermione hurried off the ferry, walking down the gangway and looking every which way for a sign of the Death Eater. When she saw the coast was clear she turned back to Draco, nodding at him to say it was okay to proceed. He joined her on the gangway, and they continued on to the immigration building.

The line was long but went quickly enough, the immigration officer barely even glanced at Draco's passport. Before they knew it, Hermione and Draco were back outside, the cold biting at their skin.

"England," Hermione breathed, feeling both relieved and ambivalent at being back in her home country.

"What an astute observation, Granger," Draco responded sarcastically, throwing her words back at her and thrusting his hands into his coat pockets.

Draco's eyes scanned the crowd of people waiting outside the terminal. He was looking for—ah, yes. "There he is."

Hermione followed Draco's line of vision for the second time this morning and found the Death Eater from the ferry walking purposefully down the street.

"Let's go," she said, immediately moving to follow the man.

A hand around her wrist stopped her mid-step. "Are you mad?" Draco demanded. "You do not follow stray Death Eaters, Granger, unless you have a death wish!" he paused as he realized what he said. "See how well that worked out last time?" his eyes raked her figure, alluding to the fact that she was no longer in the land of the living.

Hermione glared at him. "What do you suggest? Standing around until Merlin himself gives you a sign? This man could lead us somewhere important, clearly he's here for a reason!"

"You don't know that!" Draco exclaimed, eyes darting around anxiously to make sure nobody had noticed his outburst. They hadn't. He lowered his voice and continued, "He could be visiting his fucking in-laws for all we know, Granger!"

Hermione snorted. "Not likely. You Death Eaters are always up to something malicious." She turned away from Draco and caught a glimpse of the man turning the corner onto a narrow alleyway.

"Come on!" Wrenching her wrist from his grasp, Hermione began walking at a brisk pace down the street after the man dressed in black.

"Granger!" Draco shouted, not caring if people heard. "Granger! Fuck!" he cursed when she didn't stop.

He had no choice but to follow her.

* * *

><p><strong>End Note: That's the end of this chapter, sorry for yet another cliff hanger, they're sorta my favorite thing ever. Happy Halloween everyone! <strong>


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